


If Lost, Return to Phil

by thatsmistertoyou



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Existentialism, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Shower Sex, Smut, fluff sometimes i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmistertoyou/pseuds/thatsmistertoyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Phil are friends with benefits, which always works until it doesn’t. Dan wishes things could be different, and gets more than he bargains for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Si Se Pierde, Regresar a Phil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357033) by [mortalkombat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortalkombat/pseuds/mortalkombat)



> All the thanks in the world to Sam (silverluminosity) for her poetic/plotting genius.

The problem with Phil was that he was too thoughtful, Dan decided. He was too everything, really. Too kind, too creative, too passionate, too smart. And he was too good to Dan - that much was for certain.

Dan found himself staring at his ceiling quite a bit lately. Hands behind his head, his feet draping over the side of his bed as he laid on it the wrong way, pondering about things that ought naught be pondered about while alone. Phil, of course, had noticed his reclusive tendencies, and one day, handed Dan a package full of plastic stars.

“For your ‘Thotful Spot’,” he had said with a shy grin. “They glow in the dark.” Dan had just stared at him, bewildered, and Phil had faltered a little.

“I just figured you might want something nice to look at while you lie there,” Phil had said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Thanks, Phil. I like them,” Dan had replied, a small smile curving his lips.

And it was true - he really did like the stars. He had painstakingly arranged them on his ceiling, trying his best to recreate some constellations. And then he decided that the Ancient Greeks or whomever decided that these random clusterfucks of light looked like _bears_ were absolutely daft, and just stuck them up haphazardly.

Only now, these stupid bits of plastic made him question life in the most absurd way. He just felt so small, looking up at them and imagining they were the real thing. In an infinite universe with an infinite number of places and planets and stars, what was the _point?_ Nothing he did would matter in the grand scheme of the universe. Nothing anyone did, really. He was twenty-two and the universe was old as hell. One day the earth and everyone who had lived there - a tiny blip in the radar in the eyes of the universe - would be gone, and the universe wouldn’t give a flying fuck. Everything would carry on. The universe would keep expanding, supernovas would explode, stars would burn and fade, and _fucking hell not this again._

Dan covered his face in his hands, cursing himself for thinking too hard - again. He almost wanted to blame Phil for giving him the dumb stars in the first place, but he wasn’t that childish. They were too thoughtful of a gift. And they were not the ‘something nice’ Dan wanted to look at when he was losing himself to another goddamn existential crisis.

If he had to look up at those mocking pieces of glowy shit any longer, he was going to lose it. He sighed, hoisted himself off his bed, and ambled downstairs to the lounge. Phil was sat on the couch researching potential Internet News stories, which Dan should have been helping him with. Dan knelt down and rested his chin on Phil’s knee, waiting rather impatiently for Phil to acknowledge him. Phil’s eyes flicked to Dan’s pouty face, but he promptly returned his attention to his work.

“Got anything good?” Dan asked.

“A few things. I went to ask for your help but you looked a bit preoccupied. Everything okay?”

“Just contemplating the uselessness of all human efforts in the grand scheme of a callous universe that won’t be affected in the slightest when we and everything we know ceases to exist.”

“Well, someone saved a kitten from a gutter today,” Phil replied lightly. Too much of a ray of sunshine, he was.

“The universe doesn’t care.”

“But the kitten does,” Phil said, finally looking up at Dan. He sighed, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That was the last thing Dan wanted, really. He wanted a distraction. Something to make him feel like it wasn’t all for naught or like he could scream at the top of his lungs and it would echo.

“No,” Dan said, slinking his way up Phil’s legs and straddling his lap. Phil’s hands settled on Dan’s hips automatically, but he still looked hesitant, his bottom lip growing red as he bit it.

“Dan - do we need to talk about _this?_ ” Phil said, and Dan was tempted to play dumb. No, they most certainly did not need to go there. They were best friends. They fucked when it was convenient for them. It worked.

 _“No,”_ Dan repeated.

“Sorry, I just -” Phil lowered his hands to Dan’s thighs, rubbing them lightly as he continued. “I thought that might be contributing to how out of sorts you’ve been lately. You’ve been a bit - I dunno how to say this nicely - needy. Not that I’m not willing but I’m afraid you’ve been using it as a way to put out all those other thoughts, instead of dealing with them.”

Too perceptive.

“Is that a bad thing?” Dan said indignantly, settling his hands on Phil’s collar, smoothing it out with mechanical precision.

“Dan,” Phil insisted, placing a hand on the side of Dan’s face and moving a hair closer so that Dan would look at him. “I need to know you’re okay. I’m your best friend first and a ‘distraction’ second. Talk to me before you seduce me as stress relief. That’s all I ask.”

Too sensible.

But that was just the problem - the roles Phil played in Dan’s life were overlapping and becoming increasingly difficult to separate. They decided a long time ago that their friendship was the most important thing. Come hell or high water, they were best friends. And then Dan just had to go and kiss Phil and make everything complicated.

And then those dumbass stars had to come along and make Dan realize why he had never pursued Phil properly: fear. He had been, and still was, afraid to fuck it up and afraid to be a bad boyfriend and afraid of what the distance would have done to him after Dan knew what it was like to be completely enveloped in Phil while he was sleeping.

So he never allowed it to get to that point. They made a mutual agreement that commitment wasn’t something they needed, but they did have, you know, needs. So they fooled around when they were bored or horny or, increasingly so in Dan’s case, needed stress relief. After they moved in together, Dan knew at least one problem with being in a real relationship with Phil was solved, but he was content to ignore it.

Only those stupid fucking romantic comedies were onto something because it was so hard to separate physical intimacy from emotional connectedness when he had both with the same person. But the universe didn’t give a shit that Dan was struggling with how Phil was looking at him with all the sincerity in the world in his stupid fucking oceans for eyes and Dan was positively drowning.

“I’m fine,” Dan said, jutting forward and pressing his lips to Phil’s neck before the latter had time to examine his face. Phil gave a shudder that only encouraged Dan, who began to unbutton Phil’s shirt. “I just want you.”

Words like that were supposed to flip the switch: _okay, we’re fooling around now. Kindly leave the friendship at the door and have fun._ Only Dan’s switch wasn’t working properly anymore, and he just wanted Phil - completely and entirely. And he was too afraid to tell him so because he was shit and the universe didn’t care if he had feelings for Phil, so he should just suck it up and if his little insignificant life mattered to him at all he’d best do what he could not to fuck it up.

“I like getting lost in you,” Dan continued, breath warm against Phil’s ear as he helped Phil shrug his shirt off.

“Help me find you,” Phil replied, his voice low as he took Dan’s face between his hands and kissed him. Dan was expecting something forceful; that’s usually how it went between them as these rolls in the sheets were (supposed to) be driven by lust alone. But Phil’s lips were soft and warm and lingering against Dan’s mouth. Phil’s fingers dragged across Dan’s back until he reached the hem of Dan’s t-shirt and lifted it. Dan pulled his arms out of the sleeves practically shoved the fabric over his head and across the room.

Phil immediately took Dan’s face in his hands again and - in an act so tender Dan’s heart flipped over - pressed a kiss to Dan’s forehead before making his way back to Dan’s lips.

Kissing Phil was always means to an end - it was basically understood that they were going to have sex every time they started up, unless one of them decided they weren’t in the mood or whatever. This time, it felt different.

Their mouths moulded together slowly, not even caring that both of their lips were dry and sticking together. Dan took Phil’s bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head back until it was freed. Before he could go in again, Phil snaked his arms around Dan’s back, twisted their bodies, and toppled onto Dan so that he was lying on his back. Dan giggled.

“What is it with you and tackling me?”

“It’s the most fun I’ve ever had,” Phil teased, situating himself between Dan’s legs.

“Is that so?” Dan replied, slinging his legs around Phil and digging his heels into Phil’s lower back, wanting to touch as much of Phil as possible.

“Mhm,” Phil hummed, looking down at Dan with a shy half-smile and his fringe hanging in his face. All that were missing were the cat whiskers, and it might as well have been four years earlier: the first time they had done this.

“Me too,” Dan said, his voice as small as it was that time, and he combed Phil’s hair through his fingers and held it out of his face. “You have a beautiful forehead,” Dan said, unable to repress a giggle, which was not in the script.

“You have a beautiful everything,” Phil replied, catching on. Funny how those words had the same exact effect on Dan the second time round. Dan wanted to ask if he meant it, but, just like last time, the words caught in his throat, and he sat up just enough to kiss Phil - quickly and shyly. Only Phil didn’t let him withdraw this time.

Phil’s arms were still wrapped around Dan’s back, holding him. Phil sealed their mouths together again, leaning forward so they fell back against the cushions. Dan dragged his fingernails against the smooth plane of Phil’s back, drinking in his warmth and the feeling of being completely encased in Phil’s scent of sweat and something sweet.

It was just like the first time: slow and patient and passionate. And, for fuck’s sake, they were only _kissing_. Dan couldn’t remember the last time he snogged anyone just for the sake of it. A swirling, tight pleasure coiled in his stomach. Butterflies. He was a grown man with butterflies, because the man he was supposed to be fucking was making him feel loved.

But Phil most certainly didn’t love him. He couldn’t. Didn’t love require some kind of reciprocity? As in, Dan needed to give Phil something to love about him? Sure, he was pretty good at blowjobs and they were best friends, but Dan wasn’t thoughtful like Phil was. He was irresponsible and inconsistent and too emotionally constipated to even wrap his head around the thought that Phil could love him too.

If he did, he would have said something. Phil was brave - he’d be willing to take the chance and tell Dan about his feelings. He wouldn’t be dumb enough to suffer in silence for years, wanting more, like Dan had.  

And it was all too much, because Phil was pressing his lips to Dan’s neck, and his breath was warm and his touch feather-light on Dan’s ribs. He was certainly _not_ allowed to do that when Dan wanted to be taken out of himself. He wanted only sensation and to stop overthinking it but Phil was being so uncharacteristically gentle and deliberate and _fuck._   

“Phil…” Dan managed to get out, and it was supposed to be a question, but his voice wouldn’t assume the proper intonation. His throat tightened, and he could feel tears brimming in his eyes because he was well and truly fucked. The universe didn’t care, and neither did Phil. Phil was just mixing it up, making it more intense for the both of them. Because Phil was a grown man with control over his emotions, and Dan was a needy child.  

Dan never wanted this feeling to end: pretending that they were really together, and that they made love instead of just fucked, and that he could reach out for Phil’s hand and know it was there to lace their fingers together and guide him when he was lost. And he was so lost.

“Dan?” Phil’s soft whisper brought Dan back to earth. Phil wiped away a tear with his thumb, worry creasing his brow as he stared down at Dan. “You’re not okay, are you?”

“No,” Dan replied, his voice thick.

“Didn’t really think so. C’mere.” Phil disentangled himself from Dan, and pulled Dan into his lap, hugging him and pressing Dan’s face into the crook of his neck. And that was exactly what Dan needed most and least.

“‘M sorry,” Dan murmured into Phil’s shoulder, as though it would encompass everything. _Sorry for being so stupid,_ he didn’t say. _Sorry for loving you when I’m not supposed to. Sorry that I’m about to fuck everything up._

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dan said.

He wasn’t brave enough to sit up and gauge Phil’s reaction. Phil didn’t move a muscle.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to keep going.”

“Were you even _going_ to continue?”

“What d’you mean?”

“There’s a reason I was quoting our first time, Phil. That felt… different, just now.”

Phil shifted a little, his grip on Dan loosening ever so slightly. “You were hurting. Figured I should take it slow,” he mumbled.

“It’s not your job to patch me up,” Dan sniffed.

“Well, someone’s got to do it, since you’re the one tearing yourself apart in the first place.”

Dan pulled back, irrationally offended by that statement. It was entirely true, of course. But he was too damn proud to agree.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if I weren’t fucking in love with you,” Dan blurted, and then immediately bit down on his tongue, wanting to take the words back as soon as they passed his lips, but it was too late. _Well done, Dan,_ he chastised himself as his stomach gave a horrible lurch. _You fucked everything up, just like you knew you would._ He didn’t dare look up at Phil as he scrambled off the couch in pursuit of his shirt.

“Dan,” Phil said quietly, as though the word had been punched out of him.

Dan didn’t wait for him to continue, and bounded up the steps two at a time. He needed to get out of there. He grabbed his wallet and keys, and couldn’t resist letting his eyes trail upward to the only source of light in the room. He climbed onto his bed and grabbed one of those stupid fuckers off of the ceiling, clutching its pointed edges tightly in his hand.  

“Dan?” Phil had materialized in his doorway, and Dan had no idea how long he had been standing there. Dan stared pointedly at his shoes, which he had just finished putting on.

“Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” He stood up and rounded on Phil, every line of his body set defensively still. Except the little things gave it away: the tremor in his left hand, the tremble in his lower lip.

“Anything. Tell me what’s going on in your head,” Phil prompted gently. Dan scoffed.

“I think I’ve said quite enough.”

“Would you listen if _I_ said something?”

“You have my undivided attention,” Dan snapped. Phil swallowed.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to play out,” he said, finally dropping his gaze. Silence followed, and when he looked back up, Dan glared at him expectantly, trying to keep his gaze from following the line of his bare shoulders. Phil hadn’t put on his shirt, which did nothing for Dan’s concentration.

“You were right to read into what just happened. I _was_ trying to tell you something.”

The abstract concept of a single word flared up in Dan’s stomach, blooming through his chest in a sharp fractal. _Maybe._ A vicious little word that allowed him, for a fraction of a second, a sliver of hope. But his nostrils flared; he refused to entertain the thought that Phil might actually _want him too_.

“I wasn’t fucking born _yesterday_ , Phil. Don’t coddle me. I don’t need you to lie to me to keep me from jumping.”

“I couldn’t lie to you if I tried. You know me. I’d do anything to keep you from jumping. But know that I’d never lie about this: I love you, Dan.”

The word, spoken aloud, shattered and scattered like broken glass across the silence between them. But Phil didn’t mean it the way Dan wanted him to mean it.

“Yeah, sure, you love me. Like a friend. Or a brother. A brother you occasionally fuck up the ass when you’re bored and horny.”

Phil’s jaw dropped, and he sagged further against the doorframe. “How can you say that? That’s positively insulting to our friendship and you know it.”

Dan could feel himself digging a grave, but couldn’t seem to stop.

“Friendship?” Dan spat. “You keep using that word, but I’m not entirely sure you know what it means. Friends don’t sleep in the same bed, they don’t fuck each other, and they certainly don’t fucking fall in love. So you want to call this a friendship? I’d say that’s an incredibly liberal definition of the word.”

“So we’re not friends, then?” Phil replied, struggling to keep himself collected. “I’m inclined to agree, because friends _tell_ each other when something’s bothering them, instead of bottling it up for who knows how long and letting it fucking fester like this - to the point where it can’t possibly be fixed.”

Even though he’d started it, hearing Phil say that made Dan’s stomach settle somewhere between his ankles.

“No,” he said quietly, backpedaling. “Of course we’re friends.”

“We’re not,” Phil said resolutely. “We’ve always been more.”

And that, of all things, was the phrase that caused Dan’s tenuous composure to snap.

 _“More?_ How could I possibly ask for _more_ than this?!” he exploded, swinging his hand out in a wild gesticulation. “More than I already take from you? All you do is give and give and I leech off you like the whiny fucking child I am! And I should be _grateful_ for what you give to me! I should feel _lucky_ that even though you’ll never love me, at least I get to pretend you do for an hour at a time, a few times a week. But that’s not good enough for me, is it? Of course not. Because I’m a selfish piece of shit, and I always have to invest emotion into something as straightforward as your _dick_ down my _throat!_ It should be simple, but it’s _not,_ because I’ve messed everything up! I messed it up! _Because I’m messed up!”_

He broke off panting, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white with the strain and the plastic star was cutting deep into the skin of his palm.

“Dan,” Phil said cautiously, taking a few steps forward, his hand extended.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Dan hissed. “I’ll just fall even more in love with you and everything will get worse.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Phil said quietly, his hand still outstretched. “I know you better than anyone on this planet, and I’m telling you I love you. More than you understand. I want you next to me in everything I do. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone or anything.”

“You would. And sometimes I wish you’d just do it already. You could trade my sorry, angst-ridden arse for a bubbly, sociable boyfriend who doesn’t have two tonnes of self-imposed baggage riding on his shoulders. I wish you’d trade me for someone who could love you the way you deserve. I want to make you happy. But I can’t.”

“Someone who _listens_ to me would be nice, yeah. You’re clearly missing my point if you think I’d want to do that. I’d choose you every time. I don’t know what else I can say to make you believe it.”

There was a long, painful silence before Dan actually spoke.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “There’s nothing you can say.”

“I don’t suppose I’d come away unscathed if I tried to show you?”

Dan jerked backwards a little at that, his gaze snapping up to lock on Phil’s face, searching for signs of deception. Phil’s mouth was pressed into a determined line and his brows were drawn inward, but no insincerity lingered in his eyes.

“Sorry?” Dan asked stupidly.

“I want to kiss you but I’m afraid you’ll hit me.”

Dan felt his throat tighten up. He wanted Phil to kiss him. He wanted it more than he needed to breathe.

“I could never hit you,” he admitted.

“Pretty sure you’d find some lash marks on my back right now that beg to differ,” Phil mumbled flatly. Dan struggled against a tiny, unbidden, vaguely painful smile.

“That doesn’t count,” he said. “You begged me for those.”

“Shut it, Howell,” Phil said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Dan’s heart gave a painful twinge and he shoved the plastic star into his pocket.

“Make me.”

It was both a challenge and an invitation for Phil to kiss him, and Phil took it as such, sealing the distance between them with a few long strides. He slid his arms around Dan’s neck, pulling him down the tiny fraction necessary to press their lips together. Dan’s mouth immediately parted in unbreakable habit, and his fingers dragged across the bare skin of Phil’s back with raw desperation.

Phil reciprocated immediately, licking into Dan’s mouth and gripping Dan’s hair tight between his fingers. And Dan moaned, because the spark of electricity elicited by Phil’s mouth on his never seemed to fade. His tongue tangled with Phil’s urgently, and he was surely leaving more marks in Phil’s back because he was drowning again and Phil was his oxygen.

There was a flurry of movement as Phil maneuvered Dan backward and the soft backs of his knees hit the side of the bed and then they were sprawling across the mattress, Phil bracing above Dan on one elbow as he traced his fingers up under Dan’s shirt, soft and delicate and intimate.

And it wasn’t a contrived intimacy; they weren’t gentle touches here and there that ultimately lead to the inevitable endgame. It was the kind of easy intimacy shared by lovers. Even as he slanted his mouth further to allow Phil better access, Dan could feel that uncomfortable tightness welling in his chest, and suddenly there was the unwelcome slick of tears against his cheeks again.

Phil must have felt the wetness, because he pulled back and his face fell.

“What’s wrong, Bear?” he whispered, stretching towards Dan’s bedside table to grab a tissue.

Dan struggled to sit up, colliding with Phil’s chest in the process, and he couldn’t help it - he wrapped around him, his arms snaking over the planes and curves of Phil’s shoulders like vines slithering and securing to the foundation that would support them.

“Hey, hey - it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Phil said, squeezing Dan tightly.

“I know,” Dan said.

 _But you should,_ he didn’t say. _You’d be happier if you did._

“I love you,” Phil replied, rubbing Dan’s back.

 _No, you don’t,_ Dan didn’t say. _Not enough._

“I love you, too. But I…I just, I don’t know, I need to clear my head. I’ve been letting you do that for me for way too long. I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Phil and stood up.

“It’s late,” Phil replied. “Why don’t you sleep on it instead?”

“I don’t think I could sleep now,” Dan murmured. _I only want to sleep beside you, but I can’t._

“Okay. But why do I have this awful feeling you won’t come back?”

“I will.”

“Maybe not entirely.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I feel like,” Phil paused and seemed to consider his words carefully, “like you just became mine and I’m already losing you.”

“I promise I’ll come back,” Dan said, even though he knew it wasn’t the answer Phil wanted to hear. _I always come back to you._

“Alright. Be safe.”

Dan nodded, but couldn’t trust himself to speak. He leaned forward, briefly, and pressed his lips to Phil’s - it was chaste, and a little clumsy, their slightly wet lips clinging as he pulled away. He didn’t look back as he trudged out the door - he knew the image of Phil sitting there with his sad blue eyes would burn into his brain forever if he did - and down the stairs. He locked the front door behind him and set off with no particular destination in mind.

He regretted not having the foresight to bring a jacket, as the night air was chilly and damp and clung to his skin. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but his fingers collided painfully with the plastic star. He removed it, and it glowed meekly in his palm.

Dan didn’t know he could resent an inanimate object so intensely. If it weren’t for those stupid stars, he never would have suffered this miniature psychotic break in the first place. He wanted to throw it - just toss it into the empty street and be rid of it - but he couldn’t bring himself to litter. Phil didn’t like it.

“Damn it,” he muttered. He turned on the spot, looking for a bin, and instead a fountain about a block away met his gaze. A steady stream of water was bursting out of the top. It would do just fine.

He walked up to it, glancing around cautiously, as if there were anyone else mad enough to be out this late. He closed his eyes, squeezing the star in his hand one last time.

_I wish that Phil could find someone else. Someone who can make him happy and give him everything he wants._

Dan tossed the star into the fountain and heard it hit the water with a satisfying _plop_. He closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air and wishing he had something happier to wish for.

But he didn’t, so he turned away from the fountain, squared his shoulders against the cold breeze, and made his way back to the flat. Phil stirred in his bed as Dan walked past his room. He wanted Phil to know he made it home safely, but couldn’t bring himself to join Phil. Dan’s bed, when he crawled into it, still fully clothed, had never felt emptier.

x

Dan stretched, letting out a satisfied mew as his limbs cracked. He rolled over, clutching his arms to his bare chest. _Wait._

Dan blinked rapidly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and glancing around the dim room. He spied some familiar objects - his amber lamp, his piano, a few stuffed toys - but something was off. He sat up abruptly, glancing around, and nearly fell out of bed when his gaze landed on a distinctly female shape lying beside him.

_What in holy hell?_

He sprang out of bed, wearing only black boxers, taking a few panicky steps backwards through what was apparently his room, though it looked nothing like it. The girl in question, who had been sleeping, jolted awake at his rapid movement.

“Dan?” she asked, and he stopped dead. Her accent was American.

“And who the fuck are you?” he snapped. He hoped to whatever god was listening that she wasn’t a fan.

“I might be offended if I didn’t know how drunk you were last night,” she said flippantly, pushing herself up into a sitting position. She raised an eyebrow.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“I don’t even know where the fuck I am,” he said, his eyes trailing around the room once more. It was full of his possessions, but had no other sense of familiarity.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” the girl said, cocking her head to the side. “Hungover much? You said this was your place. You had a key and everything. And you were way too drunk to pull off a stunt like stealing someone else’s keys. Logically, we have to assume this flat is yours.”

“Where’s Phil?” he asked, mostly to himself, but she heard him.

“Ah, and there’s the famous misnomer,” she said, clicking her tongue. She pushed her long brown hair behind her bare shoulders, her gaze fixing on Dan’s face.

“That’s what you kept calling me while we were fucking. Ex boyfriend, I’m assuming?”

“Uh - no? He lives with me…” Dan trailed off, all courtesy dissipating as he left the room to explore ‘his’ flat. No, he had certainly never been here before, and it certainly was not his shared flat with Phil. He stumbled into what was apparently an office, with his Mac and a large stack of papers sitting on the desk and a few frames on the walls.

He felt nauseous - surely this was all just a very vivid nightmare. He half-jogged back to ‘his’ bedroom, only to find the girl pulling on her clothing.

“What city are we in?” he asked, a little frantically.

“London, last I checked,” she replied. “Unless we’ve teleported overnight.”  

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as he found the evidence of a rather enthusiastic hickey. He scowled.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, pointedly irritated. She looked up and didn’t bother trying to hide her smirk.

“I got a little overzealous,” she replied easily. “You have a beautiful neck.”

“The only person who’s ever done that, who is _allowed_ to do that, is Phil,” Dan snapped, irrationally annoyed. The girl, though, didn’t seem offended - in fact, she just finished putting on her shoes and stood, slinging her purse over one shoulder.

“The plot thickens,” she said, all playful snark. “Look, it’s none of my business, but clearly you’ve got some unresolved issues you might want to take a look at. Or, you know, go on vacation. See a therapist. Find this ‘Phil’, who is apparently as good in bed as I am. Something. It’ll do you a world of good.”

“Right. Well, you probably know your way out better than I do. Thanks, I guess.”

“I’ll make an educated guess and say you probably _don’t_ want my number,” she said idly, giving a heavy sigh and trailing her hand down his bicep affectionately. “Such a shame. Well, good luck figuring your shit out, Dan.”

“I’ll need it,” he said, opening the door for her as she strode out.

_What in holy hell._

“Oh, and by the way,” she added, before he could close the door, “if it helps, when I met you last night, you were talking to your friends about what you were going to do for your thirtieth birthday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ **SPOILERS** so read part 1 first. Okay you’ve been warned.]   
>  Dan tries to figure out his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely wish I were sorry. Also thanks to Sam (silverluminosity) for enabling me. (Sam’s note: Leave your emotional stability at the door.)

Dan stood there, rooted to the spot for several moments. He heard the girl making her way out of the flat, and he forgot about her as soon as the door slammed behind her.

His pulse pounded in his ears, and his stomach gave a grand lurch that made him stumble forward in pursuit of a toilet. Going with his instincts, he managed to find the bathroom on the first try. His knees hit linoleum and his shaking hands found purchase on the rim of the toilet bowl; Dan sucked in several deep breaths, but was unable to exhale properly as his knuckles turned white from the strain of keeping him grounded to reality.

_But this can’t be reality. It’s a dream,_ he told himself. _The last thing you remember is going to sleep, so it must be a dream._

He opened his left hand, expecting to find the cuts that the star had left there, but there were only tiny, faded scars. _The star._ He tossed it into that fountain and now he was living a different life in which he was almost thirty and couldn’t remember how he got to that point.

Tears stung his eyes, and he plugged one nostril to keep from hyperventilating. _Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic_ , he thought repeatedly, and forced himself to breathe a little slower, crouching over the toilet until his chest stopped heaving.

Dan straightened up on wobbly legs and turned round, and his reflection met his eyes. He was still Dan, but he looked… Older. All traces of boyishness were gone from his face, which was speckled with stubble. Dan’s eyes raked over the rest of his body - just as tall but leaner and more muscular than he remembered. Had he actually been going to the gym?

He splashed water on his face in a futile effort to make it all seem more real, but it didn’t help. He buried his face in a towel, trying to soak in the sensation of the soft fibers on his skin. _It feels real_.

An obnoxious ringing startled him, and he turned on the spot, dropping the towel and whipping his head with wild, frantic motions, searching for the source of the noise. He clambered back to his bedroom, and what was apparently his phone buzzed and whined on the bedside table. _Oh, what the hell?_ he figured, and answered it.

“Hello?” Dan asked, and his voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat.

“Romeo, Romeo, where art thine arse this morning?” replied a grumpy male voice.

“What?”

Answering the phone was definitely a poor choice on his part.

“It’s nearly ten o’clock, Howell. First read through was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. I grow weary of your tardiness.”

“Right,” Dan said, thinking quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m just feeling very ill this morning. Been bent over the toilet for ages.”

“Well, would’ve been nice if I had known that. We can’t exactly start without you.”

“Why’s that?” Dan asked cautiously.

“This may come as a shock to you, but surprisingly few important scenes in _Romeo and Juliet_ don’t feature Romeo. Unless you’d rather your understudy take the lead.”

Dan’s heart leapt into his throat. “No, sir. I want to be there, but I think I’ve caught something awful. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Very well, then. But you had better be here first thing tomorrow. Or, as they say, the show _will_ go on.”

“I will be there,” Dan affirmed.

“Yes, you will. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

He knew that level of snark could only come from one person: a director. Dan forced himself to slow his racing thoughts. Okay, so apparently he was Romeo in a production of _Romeo and Juliet_ \- no doubt directed by Sergeant Sassmaster who just called him - which was just starting up if they were only at the first read-through stage. He hadn’t missed much, then, but there was the minor problem of not knowing where all of this took place. But he could figure that out later. He already knew the plot and a few lines. He could do this. He was an _actor_.

Maybe he could be content in this weird dream universe, then. Dan loved performing: leaving it all on the stage and feeling the response from the audience. For a while, he could fully immerse himself in his character and become someone entirely different. It had been years since he had been in a full-scale production, but he had a feeling he could get back into the swing quickly. And he would have to, if he needed to know his lines by the following day. _Fuck_.

When Dan zoned back into reality, he found himself staring at his phone. He turned it over in his hand; the thing was impossibly slim but had the familiar Apple symbol on the back. He flipped it round again, and clicked the home button. Monday, June 7th at 9:42 am. Dan’s heart skipped a beat and then picked up in double time as he hurriedly unlocked the phone and tapped the calendar. The year was 2021.

Dan’s knees turned to jello and he stumbled onto his bed, flopping onto the duvet face down. It was impossible. He’d sooner accept that he had stumbled into an alternate reality than had somehow travelled through time. There was no way he couldn’t remember seven years of his life. He needed something familiar - something that would let him know that he hadn’t gone mad.

_“Phil,”_ Dan whispered aloud, and groped for his phone again. He scrolled through his contacts, passing many names he didn’t recognize, and tapped on ‘Phil Lester’. The phone rang several times before Dan heard the other line spring to life.

“Phil!” Dan practically shouted.

“Dan?” Phil replied, and Dan felt his whole body relax.

“Oh God, it’s so good to hear your voice. Listen, I know this sounds crazy but I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where I am and I can’t remember anything and I swear I’m not drunk but maybe I’ve been drugged -”

“Dan,” Phil interjected. “Take a deep breath for me. Can you do that?”

Dan gave a nod that Phil didn’t see, and inhaled for several seconds.

“Good. Now breathe out, nice and slow.”

Dan did as Phil instructed.

“That’s better. Are you okay, Dan?”

“No. I need you,” Dan said, his voice cracking.Phil paused before continuing.

“Okay. You said you don’t know where you are? Maybe use the GPS on your phone to figure it out?”

“Yeah, that’d make sense…” Dan replied, smacking his hand into his face. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” Phil said, pausing again. “Do you need me to come get you or - ?”

“Yes, that’d be so helpful. I’m sorry, Phil, I just - I’m so confused. I dunno what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay, Dan. Just stay put. Send me your location and I’ll come to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Right. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

“Anytime.”

The line went dead before Dan could say anything else.

_It’s okay_ , he told himself. _Phil’s coming and everything will be fine. He’ll help you figure it out_.

He opened his text messages and sent Phil his location, which was a random street in west London that he didn’t recognize. Out of curiosity, he decided to peruse his most recent texts.

The first person in his inbox was PJ, and he read the conversation that apparently led him to a bar and to that girl the previous night. He allowed himself a sigh of relief - at least PJ was in this bizarre future.

A thought that must have been nagging at the back of his mind sprung free - was acting his full-time job now? His eyes darted around the room for his laptop, but to no avail. Remembering the desktop in the office, he strode to it, sat down in the chair, and turned on the Mac, praying that it wasn’t password-protected. It wasn’t, thank God, and he instinctively opened chrome and went to the one place he knew would help him figure out what he had been up to recently: youtube.com/danisnotonfire.

YouTube was practically unrecognizable in terms of layout, but Dan got his bearings quickly enough to find the most recent video, entitled ‘Goodbye, Internet’. It was dated six years ago. His heart sunk to the floor, and he couldn’t bring himself to watch the video. The title said it all. What the fuck had he missed?

He crossed his arms on the desk and buried his face in them, unwilling to succumb to tears again. A chill ran up his spine, and he suddenly remembered that he was wearing only pants. He dragged himself out of the chair and to his bedroom and got dressed. At least some of the clothes were familiar.

Dan wondered how he could have gotten to that point. What made him quit YouTube? He _really_ didn’t want to watch the video and find out because he had had enough crying for one morning. Phil would know what had happened, and it’d probably be better to hear it from Phil than from his past self. Phil could tell him the world was ending and the words would still sound sweet in his voice.

His thoughts were crowding together and skipping over each other too quickly - he had too many questions to sit still and ponder about. Dan was all too familiar with that feeling, and forced himself to move to distract himself. He might as well explore the rest of their - _his_ \- flat.

The lack of stairs was almost alarming as he wandered around the small apartment. The walls were relatively bare and the whole place felt _impersonal_ somehow. It wasn’t just that it was unfamiliar; it looked like he hadn’t finished moving in yet. Like someone lived there but didn’t call it home.

He flopped down on the leather sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. A few of his possessions perched on the shelves, but there was a pronounced lack of random plushies and trinkets. Dan shrugged, forcing himself to keep these sorts of observations to a minimum while he waited for Phil.

He didn’t have to wait long, though, because not a moment later, Phil texted him asking what number his apartment was. _Excellent question_ , Dan thought sarcastically, and poked his head out the front door. _1019_ , Dan replied. He shut the door behind him and strolled to the window. He was on the tenth floor of a large building with a decent view of London. Evidently, he made enough money as an actor to afford a nice flat - a fact that his teenage self never would have believed.

A timid knock snapped Dan back to reality, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he sprinted to the door. His hand paused on the handle for a moment and he swallowed before turning it and opening the door.

It should not have surprised Dan that Phil looked older; he had, after all, stepped into the future somehow. Still, he had to take a moment to take him in. Phil was wearing glasses, a newer and more sophisticated pair with thin frames. His hair was shorter and he had clearly stopped dyeing it, as it was an orangey-brown colour. But his eyes, of course, remained the same shade of blue that Dan knew so well.

“Hello, Dan,” Phil said, one side of his mouth quirking upward in a shy smile.

“Phil!” Dan practically shouted, and threw his arms around Phil in a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you.”

Phil didn’t reply, and remained conspicuously still for several seconds, his shoulders rigid, before he finally relaxed and rested his chin on Dan’s shoulder. His movements felt slow and syrupy as he settled into the embrace.

“You wanna come in?” Dan asked without moving, but Phil pulled away. “Apparently, this place is mine.”

“Apparently so,” Phil replied, following Dan inside and closing the door behind him. Dan settled on the sofa, propping his feet up and expecting Phil to plop down beside him. But Phil lingered by the door.

“Well, you can sit down,” Dan said nonchalantly, patting the space next to him. Phil nodded and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. Dan had never seen him look so nervous, and that made the hair on the back of Dan’s neck stand up.

“Are you alright, Dan? I’ll admit I feared something was wrong when I saw you were calling.”

“Something _is,”_ Dan replied. “Listen, I know this is going to sound absolutely insane, but I - I don’t know how I got here. Literally the last thing I remember was apparently _seven years_ ago. I went to bed last night and it was 2014, and today I woke up and it was fucking 2021 and I think I might be losing my mind.”

Phil raised his eyebrows.

“Did you hit your head or something? Maybe you have amnesia.”

“I don’t suppose saying that I don’t _remember_ hitting my head carries any weight.”

“Not really. Well, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I - I came back from a walk. We, erm, we’d had a - a domestic,” Dan said, choosing his words carefully. Phil’s hesitance was making his stomach turn over uncomfortably. Something wasn’t right.

“Oh,” Phil replied, looking down at his lap. “You don’t remember the following morning?”

“This _is_ the following morning,” Dan muttered.

“Oh,” Phil repeated, and he swallowed. “I - I dunno how to tell you this, then, if you genuinely don’t remember.”

Dan’s heart hammered against his ribcage. _What could possibly have happened that would make Phil act like this?_

Phil didn’t wait for Dan to encourage him to continue.

“You left.”

“I - what?”

“You packed your stuff and left,” Phil repeated, his voice breaking. “Been living here ever since, as far as I know.”

“As - as far as you _know?”_

“Dan,” Phil began carefully. “I assumed you were in some kind of emergency when you called because - well, we haven’t spoken in years.”

“Why?” Dan choked out, and he was sure his throat was going to close up completely. He was beginning to panic.

“You haven’t called since the wedding,” Phil said, finally making eye contact again. If Dan had been standing, he was fairly certain his legs would have given out from underneath him.

“Wedding?” Dan whispered, his gaze trailing to Phil’s left hand. Sure enough, a silvery band was wrapped round Phil’s fourth finger. Dan opened his mouth, his eyes locked on the stupid piece of gleaming metal, but no sound came out.  

“Mine and Nigel’s, yeah,” Phil said, his voice small.

_Nigel is the worst name in the English language,_ Dan thought, a little hysterically. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his composure for Phil’s sake.

“I don’t suppose I was best man at your wedding?”

Phil looked down at his lap, twisting the ring round his finger.

“You sent a lovely gift.”

The words hit like a bag of bricks, and Dan’s jaw fell slack. He felt himself start to panic again.

“No - this - this isn’t right. I’m your best friend. What _happened_ to us?” he demanded. His eyes stung, and he clenched his fists around nothing, as if it could bring him closer to the Phil he used to know.

_“You_ happened, Dan,” Phil snapped, angry now. His jaw was set, but his eyes were glistening. “You told me that that - that _we_ weren’t what you wanted. You said - you said that you didn’t love me, and you packed up, and you left.”

“I - I said that?”

“Yeah, you did. And you quit YouTube and the radio show and ripped yourself clean from my life.”

“Phil, I - I’m so sorry. Whoever that was that did that - it wasn’t me. I -”

“Please don’t say it,” Phil hissed, turning his face away. “Don’t you dare.”

“What do you want me to say?” Dan asked desperately.

“I dunno, Dan. But I’ve moved on. You can’t just - you can’t just pop back into my life like this. I spent so long waiting, wishing you would change your mind. And you pick _today_ , of all days, to do this?”

Dan felt an irrational surge of anger. How could he possibly have known? He didn’t remember anything! But he stopped himself, focusing on Phil’s wording.

“Wait. What do you mean, today of all days?”

“Nigel and I were finally picked for an interview with an adoption agency. We’ve been trying to get a child for almost a year and now it’s finally happening.”

“Oh,” Dan said, blinking rapidly.

“I’ve moved on, Dan. I thought you had, too.”

“I don’t _remember,”_ Dan whispered, as if that would fix it. Phil sighed.

“Well, I _do.”_

Dan swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I really am. I want to be happy for you but this is just - it’s a lot to take in.”

Phil didn’t say anything, but Dan heard his breath hitch.

“Well,” Dan said, steeling himself, “if this is my life now, then I’m going to live it right. I don’t want to live in a reality in which we’re not friends.”

They finally locked eyes again. Phil’s jaw was trembling, and it looked as if he was about to dissolve into tears at any moment.

“I don’t, either,” he said quietly.

Dan wanted to reach out and take Phil’s hand and intertwine their fingers, but he saw the ring and decided against it.

“So, um,” Dan said, clearing his throat. “Do you want to go to Starbucks or something one of these days?”

“Yeah,” Phil whispered. “Yeah, I’d like that. But I should really go,” he said, louder, checking his watch. “I should definitely go.”

He stood abruptly, pushing his glasses up his nose and clearing his throat. Dan followed suit, standing on unsteady legs.

“Right, yeah. Don’t wanna be late,” he mumbled, leading the way to the door and poising his hand on the knob.

“I’ll see you again soon, right?”

“Of course,” Phil said quickly.

“Why do have this awful feeling you won’t come back?” Dan asked, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest.

“I promise I’ll come back.” Phil smiled, but Dan could see it was hurting him. He opened the door.

“Alright,” Dan said. “Good luck.”

Phil didn’t reply, only nodded as he walked out of the apartment. Dan made an aborted movement to raise his arms before realizing it wasn’t appropriate. It didn’t matter, anyway, because Phil didn’t turn around as Dan watched him disappear down the long hallway. Only once Phil had rounded the corner did Dan close the door, and only once he had closed the door did he allow himself to sink to the floor and cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan grabs his new life by the titballs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That exact phrasing of the summary was entirely necessary and you can’t convince me otherwise. As usual silverluminosity is fabulous and I owe her everything.

Dan didn’t know how long he sat there. Could’ve been another seven fucking years for all he knew. He couldn’t think clearly enough to even analyze it logically and try to figure out what could have made him fuck up  _that_  badly. He just felt  _hollow._ A strange, empty burning in his chest that he couldn’t fill.

It was just too much to process at once - he was somehow in a future in which he and Phil weren’t friends - and Phil was  _married._ To someone who wasn’t Dan. Dan had hardly entertained the thought of marrying Phil for more than a few seconds before policing himself back into submission, but he never really thought about Phil being with anyone else. But really, the two things were opposite sides of the same coin - if Dan and Phil weren’t together, what did Dan honestly expect? For Phil to live out the rest of his life as a single man? The dichotomy was the exact reason for this hollowness, and he wanted to purge himself of the feeling. But no amount of crying would do it.

It was funny, really, how badly he wanted to be with Phil now that he couldn’t. He had been willing to throw it all away for Phil’s sake the ‘previous day’, but now that he knew how much it hurt, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into Phil’s arms and beg him to forget the last seven years, like Dan apparently had. Because he was just as selfish as he had always been.

But Phil was happy. He was getting everything Dan wanted for him. And Dan would be damned if he fucked that up, too. If this was his life now, he reiterated to himself firmly, he was going to live it  _properly._  If anyone could bridge a seven year rift in a friendship, it was Dan and Phil.

Dan’s stomach made a loud, gurgling sound, and it almost felt foreign to have a  _normal_ sensation there. He forced himself up and dragged his feet to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, only to find a disappointingly healthy selection of food. Well, he had noticed a change in his body, and he certainly hadn’t achieved that by eating takeaway every day. But today was a good day for that. He used his phone to order a pizza online, and found himself staring at the ceiling again while he waited.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his brain not to go bad to that  _other_  bad headspace. He had enough to deal with at the moment.

 _Okay, Dan, turns out you need to get your life sorted sooner than you thought. What do you know about yourself now?_ Dan recited to himself the list of things he knew for sure: he was almost 30 years old. He lived in a bland apartment in west London. He still hung out with PJ. He hooked up with some girl he just met.

That nagging thought had managed to stay down until now. He couldn’t remember the girl’s name for obvious reasons now, but had he ever known it? And had he  _really_  called her Phil during sex? That meant that even ‘present’ Dan still thought about Phil, even if he had walked away all those years ago.

 _Okay, Dan, if you were you and you were pining for Phil, what would you do?_ Dan had to laugh because of how ridiculous that sounded, even in his head, and he immediately began searching underneath his bed.

He found a pile of socks that could only belong to Sock Goblins, a few old books, and a large, very promising-looking box. He hauled it out and opened it, and sure enough, there was everything that was missing from his flat: plushies and drawings given to him by fans, an old Muse album, and, sitting atop everything, his llama hat.

He never thought he’d be so happy to see it, and immediately put it on as he rifled through the box. It was clearly the remains of his internet life, so what was the Muse album doing in there? _Origin of Symmetry_  was his and Phil’s favorite - oh. It had probably reminded him of Phil too much. Fuck.

Dan had never been more thankful for pizza to arrive at his door than he did at that moment. He earned an obvious judging stare from the delivery boy for keeping the hat on, but he couldn’t have cared less.

He immediately settled on the couch with his pizza out of habit, and a horrifying thought hit him:  _how many of his favorite shows were even still running? Had American Horror Story ended? What Doctor were they on now?!_

Dan had to laugh, because he was almost more concerned with those questions than trying to fix his life. Well, it was good to know his priorities were firmly unchanged. In lieu of watching tv while he ate, he opted to read the script that he wanted to know like the back of his hand by the next day. It was only first read-through time, so he wouldn’t be expected to have memorized his lines yet, but he wanted to be ahead of the game. He had always been passionate and driven when it came to acting.

It wasn’t hard to find the script: it had been sitting on his desk, right next to his computer. Apparently, he’d had his way with it several times over. There were scribblings and annotations in the margins and between the lines. Well, his ‘present’ self had certainly thrown himself into acting.

He read through the first act quickly, but found himself going back to his first scene multiple times. His ‘present’ self had scrawled a few comments about Romeo’s character, but failed to mention how much of a dumbass he was.

Dan understood that Romeo was just a teenager, but it only took a few scenes for Romeo to _completely_  forget about Rosaline, his supposed true love at the beginning of the play. Was Juliet really  _that_  great that Romeo just dropped everything to pursue her?

He had to admit that Shakespeare made a convincing argument in favor of that idea: Romeo and Juliet’s first meeting is literally instant poetry. Line after line of perfect iambic pentameter. But Romeo had been entirely convinced that no one could hold his heart like Rosaline. And, just like that, was proven incredibly wrong. Somebody better came along; was it really Romeo’s fault that that happened?

Dan gave his head a little shake to clear it. The last thing he needed was to project all over his work. What he really needed to do was find out  _where_  the fuck he even worked and how he was going to pretend to know how things worked in his theatre.

Theater groups always adopted a culture, just like any other workplace. The cast and crew unintentionally established how they interacted with one another and bonded over the fruits of their labours. The production had barely gotten off the ground yet, though, and Dan crossed his fingers and hoped that he’d be able to fit in properly. If all else failed, he could fake it.

He turned to his trusty source of information: the internet. He googled for several minutes, intentionally avoiding just searching for himself, and found several potential theatres. He went to the result for the Shakespeare Globe Theatre, and sure enough, there was a large advertisement for  _Romeo and Juliet_ tickets, now available for preorder. He clicked on ‘more information’ and was led to a page with the cast and crew list. He skimmed the page and his eyes halted on his own name.  _Romeo Montague - Daniel Howell._

He was starring in a play being put on at the actual fucking Shakespeare Globe Theatre. He allowed himself a small smile. He had always wanted to be an actor, but the fear that it was impractical eventually led that dream to a screeching halt. He never let that stop him from doing YouTube, though.

Dan sighed. Something was definitely missing in this new life.

He rummaged through the boxes on the floor of the office closet, and found several containing all of his old filming equipment. He set up the lights and tripod with ease, relieved at finally feeling like he knew what he was doing. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he could make YouTube videos, no matter how long it had been.

He pulled off the llama hat automatically to fix his hair, squinting at the viewfinder as he smoothed it down with mechanical precision. He decided to keep the hat on, though, and put it back, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Dan steeled himself and pressed the ‘record’ button.

“Hey there, internet! I know it’s been a ridiculous amount of time but I’d be eternally grateful if you would just hear me out.” Dan paused, wishing he had thought a little more about what he was going to say before turning on the camera. He cleared his throat and continued.

“You know as much about what I’ve been up to as I do. I honestly don’t know why I quit all that time ago. And I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to walk away from the best thing that ever happened to me.” Dan paused.  _That’s not going in the final cut._

“But whoever that was - that wasn’t me. That wasn’t the person I want to be. I want to be the best version of myself, and I can’t do that unless I have the validation of strangers on the internet, relating to the nonsense I talk to a camera about,” he continued with a laugh.

“So, if you’ll have me, I’d love to get back into the swing of things. YouTube looks really different now, so bear with me if I can’t figure out how to work my channel for a while. But you guys, however many of you are still left, are a part of me. I love making videos more than anything, and I love all of you. Your support meant so much to me years ago, and it will mean even more now, if you’re willing to give it. Also, you have my full permission to make jokes about how I procrastinated a video for six years. But I’m in this for the long haul, that much I can promise. Bye for now, guys.”

He sighed and stopped the recording, feeling slightly better. He hastily attempted to transfer the footage to his computer, only to realize that the Mac was newer than the one he was used to. He spent an inordinate amount of time fiddling with it, and had to wait twenty minutes for the shitty editing software that came with the computer to open. He made a mental note to buy the latest version of Final Cut as he edited quicker than he thought possible, and uploaded the video to YouTube before he lost his nerve.

YouTube, had, thankfully, fixed a lot of the bugs that plagued him before. The video processed in no time, and he made it public with a hesitant click. He had only a tiny fraction of the number of subscribers he had had, but that didn’t bother him. He just hoped the ones that were left were willing to accept his apology. Sure, he loved making videos, but without the community that he had been so proud to be a part of, the experience wouldn’t be the same. And if there was one thing he needed, it was something that was the same as it had always been.

His thoughts inevitably drifted to Phil as he stared blankly at the page, watching the view count chug upward. Dan opened a new tab and visited Phil’s channel. He smiled, because it was more or less how it had always been. He browsed through the most recent videos; Phil had continued as usual over the years. He uploaded a little less frequently, but had more subscribers than Dan could dream about.

Dan explored Phil’s channel, which had only a small modification to the description: British vlogger and Radio 1 DJ who likes lions. Underneath were all of Phil’s social media links, and Dan followed the one to the Radio 1 website.

Dan’s jaw hit the floor when he realized what he was looking at: Phil’s personal show page. Phil had his own daily show on the radio, from 6-8pm. That was the prime time to be on the radio; Phil had earned the best spot in the business. Dan’s heart swelled with pride. He had been so caught up in figuring out his own shit that he hadn’t even considered what success Phil might have achieved. Of course he had climbed to the top, though - he didn’t need Dan to do that.

Phil’s vlogging style hadn’t changed much, although his videos were so high in quality Dan felt like he could step through the screen and into the room with Phil. If only. A thousand memories of them filming together hit Dan like a tidal wave. Those had been his fondest: goofing off with his best friend on camera and getting to call it work. He wished he had fully appreciated it while it was happening.

Dan’s phone gave a timid beep from the other room, and he ambled back to his bedroom to retrieve it. He picked up the phone - a little overzealously, as he was still not used to how light it was - and rolled onto his bed as he unlocked the screen.

 _I’m proud of you :)_ read a text from Phil. He must have seen Dan’s video. He must have still been subscribed to Dan after all that time. Dan beamed.

 _Thank you, Phil. That means a lot._ Dan typed out, but it felt too formal.

 _Thanks, Phil. <3 _He quickly backspaced the heart away and hit send before he typed anything else stupid.

 _How’d the interview go?_ he decided to send too. He didn’t want the conversation to end there. Plus, it had just registered that that had happened just this morning. Damn if he had ever had a longer day.

 _Anytime :)_ replied Phil _. I was really nervous but I think it was okay._

 _I’m sure you were great,_ Dan responded.  _Thanks for coming by earlier. I’m still pretty confused but I think I know what I’m doing. Maybe. Okay probably not but whatever._

_Ha. That’s okay. I’m glad you’re back on youtube. Everyone’s missed you._

_Have they really?_

_Of course. Hasn’t been the same since you left._

Dan snuggled down deeper into the duvet and thought about that for a moment. Had he really left such a big hole when he quit? Would his absence really be noticed when someone younger and more put together undoubtedly took his place?

_Oh. Surely the community has grown?_

_Yeah it has. But its been different. For me, at least._

Dan frowned at his phone for a second, waiting for another message to invalidate that one, but it never came.

 _I’m sorry,_ Dan finally responded.  _I don’t know why I thought it’d be a good idea to walk away from the best thing that ever happened to me,_ he continued, remembering what he regretting saying while filming, because he wasn’t really talking about YouTube either time. His thumb hit send of its own accord. It took Phil several minutes to reply.

_I dunno. But you’re back, so that’s all that matters._

_You don’t think it’s too late?_

_It’s never too late to right a wrong, as my mum always says._

_Suppose not,_ Dan replied, hoping that Phil really believed that.  _Wanna go for Starbucks later this week?_

_Sure. Wednesday at noon?_

_Perfect,_ Dan thought.  _I can’t wait. I’m so glad I haven’t lost you. I want to fix this more than anything._

 _Yeah, sounds good,_ was all that Phil replied.

x

Dan mentally cursed his past self for buying a flat so far away from the Globe. He probably didn’t know that he’d be working there in the future, but still. Forty minutes on the train meant he had to leave his apartment at 8:15 the latest. Coffee was a necessity.  

He sipped his coffee idly as he slumped into the train seat, wondering if he should chance a cat nap, when someone plopped down beside him. He gave the person a sidelong glance, and an excited-looking young woman met his eyes.

“Sorry, are you Daniel Howell?”

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up and trying to look less dead.

“I’ve seen a bunch of shows you’ve been in. You’re  _fantastic_. Will you sign my notebook?” she asked, offering him a small pad of paper and a sharpie.

"Sure, yeah," he muttered, taking them from her. He had just started making his ‘internet’ signature when he remembered that wasn’t how the girl knew him, and he signed his name normally.

“Thanks!” she said, grinning.

“No problem. I’m glad you - er - enjoy my performances. I’m actually on my way to rehearsal right now.”

“Oh, wow. Well, I don’t want to bother you, so break a leg!”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a two-finger salute as she walked back to her seat at the opposite end of the train.

He was being  _recognized_ for his acting work. That was nothing to turn his chin up at, and he allowed himself a small smile.

Dan walked a little straighter thanks to that encounter as he slowly approached the building, which looked more like an overgrown cottage than a theatre, but Dan knew better.

He glanced around, trying not to look like he had no idea where he was going. Now would be a good time to call his director and ask, but he  _should_  know where to go. He saw a young woman in a bright green dress speedwalking in his direction, her red curls bouncing against her shoulders. He looked around, but there was nothing else she could possibly be headed towards. She spoke to him as she walked past, barely making eye contact.

“Good of you to show up,” she said in a thick Northern accent.

“Right, yeah,” he said, following close behind her. “I was ill yesterday.”

“‘S never stopped me. Once did two shows in one day with no voice. Spent the whole of my downtime drinking tea.”

“Impressive,” he commended, slowing his pace so he was a bit further from her.

“You think? Evidently, it’s difficult to impress you.”

Dan grew weary of having conversations with people who knew more about him than he did.  _Is this what it’s like to be Harry Potter?_

“Not really,” he said quietly. The girl scoffed.

“Not what I’ve heard. James told me that you said of my audition, ‘that Lucy girl isn’t cut out to be Juliet.’”

“I’m sure that’s not all I said,” Dan mumbled, feeling his defense crumble before he could build it. Surely he couldn’t have been so rude?

“Well, doesn’t matter, anyway, since I got the part,” Lucy said, turning around briefly to smirk at him.

“Right, well, you sure proved me wrong,” he said, giving an apologetic shrug.

Lucy paused at the door in front of them, raising an eyebrow at his response. She seemed to push whatever thought from her mind as she turned the knob and entered the room.

All eyes turned to Dan as he followed Lucy inside the room. The walls were lined with promotional posters of old shows, and in the middle, a large circle of occupied chairs wound around a short, bespectacled bald man aggressively thumbing through a script. There were two seats available closest to the man, and Lucy strode to one of them, carefully smoothing her skirt as she sat down. Dan followed hastily, plopping down in the chair and trying not to blush from the obvious stares everyone shot his way.

The man, who Dan could only assume was the director that he talked to on the phone, glanced up from the script and met his gaze.  

“Good to see you up and running, Howell,” the man said in a familiar voice. He was definitely the one Dan spoke to on the phone.

“I told you I’d be here, sir,” he said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He could do this. Even if he couldn’t, he had better  _act_  like it.

The man shot Dan a doubtful look over his glasses. “I could get used to that. Nice to finally get some respect out of you.”

 _Apparently I’m a dick. Great,_ Dan thought, finally looking around to the faces of his coworkers. All of them wore an expression similar to that of the director. Was it really that rare for him to be nice?  _For fuck’s sake._

“Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday,” he said to no one in particular, digging around in his bag for the unannotated script he found the previous night.

“That’s alright,” said Lucy. “We managed just fine without you,” she said, but there was no malice in her voice. She gave him a playful wink before retrieving her own script from her bag. Dan decided it was okay to go ahead and appreciate her sass.

“I dunno  _how_  you got on without my brilliance,” Dan said, trying to make clear that he was kidding. He had a feeling his ‘present’ self would have said the same thing in an even tone. He held back from literally cringing at the thought.

Lucy smiled.

“The whole place caught fire, actually. We were so lost without you we burnt it to the ground and rebuilt it overnight. We forgot the red carpet for your arrival though; so sorry about that.”

Dan was about to make a joke about him not being on fire, but he thought better of it.“Unacceptable. I demand to be carried across any uncarpeted grounds.”

Unable to hold her composure, Lucy giggled behind her hands. “Self-deprecation looks good on you, Howell. I’d have thought that your ego was unbreachable.”

“Call me Dan,” he said automatically. “And I dunno about that - that’s not really me. I’m done being full of myself.” He hoped that was enough to somewhat reframe her image of him. Dan certainly wasn’t conceited - and if they were going to be working together, he needed her to know that.

“Good to know,” she said, turning her attention to the man in the middle of the circle, who had just cleared his throat.

“Alright, children, shall we begin?” said the director, addressing the whole room.

“Ready when you are, Hugh,” replied a blonde young man sat at the opposite side of the circle.

“Your approval is always dear to me, James,” said Hugh flatly, but Dan strongly suspected he was joking. If the people here were in fact a bunch of massively sarcastic twats, Dan would fit right in.

Dan recalled Lucy saying something about someone called James, so Dan glanced at the man in question. James gave him a friendly nod, which Dan reciprocated before returning his attention to Hugh.

“Expect little interruption from me, as we’re just familiarizing ourselves with the text at this point. I don’t expect you to have your lines memorized until the first stage rehearsal in two weeks. You all should have received the rehearsal schedule and my plans for them via email, so make sure you know it well. Take it away, Wren.”

Hugh interjected more than he had promised, but Dan was thankful that he wasn’t as strict as he seemed. He was a stickler when it came to delivering the lines exactly how they were written (Dan read the words out of order a few times), but overall let the actors interpret the lines at will - where to pause, where to add emphasis, etc.

Lucy had practically transformed under the guise of the read-through. Through her reading alone, Lucy had disappeared and naive, thirteen-year-old Juliet had replaced her. Dan was thoroughly impressed, to say the least. He made no appraisal of his own performance, but he saw a few nods of approval after his major parts, one of which was from Lucy.

They didn’t even break for lunch because they had nearly finished by then. When they reached the end of the play, Hugh reminded everyone that the next read-through on Thursday would be more serious, and, apparently satisfied with that day’s work, dismissed everyone.

James caught up to Dan as he was leaving, quickly falling into step with him.

“Hey, man!” he said, clapping a hand down on Dan’s shoulder. James lowered his voice as he continued. “Too hungover to come in yesterday? Must’ve been bad.”

“You have no idea,” Dan replied, saluting Lucy as she walked past them. She gave a small smile and waved.

“What was that? She’s got her head so far stuck up her arse it’s come out the other side. I wouldn’t bother.”

Dan frowned, but shrugged his shoulders.

“Lucy seems kinda cool to me. Understandably, she doesn’t tolerate people being dicks to her.”

“I’m not a dick. I just don’t deny myself the right to say what’s true.”

“Those two things are often the same,” Dan said gruffly.

“Whatever, man. She’s hot but I don’t want to sift through all the crazy to get to it.”

“I doubt she’d have you,” Dan snapped, growing increasingly impatient.

“Right, and you’re a knight in shining armour, defending her honour? That’s not how you felt about that American girl the other night - what was her name?”

“Megan,” Dan lied quickly, thinking on his toes. “She was very - er - vivacious.”

“That’s not what you said before you left with her,” said James, crossing his arms over his chest. “I dunno what’s gotten into you, but you’re acting really weird today.”

“Good,” said Dan bluntly. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll see you on Thursday.” Dan marched off in the direction of his tube station without waiting for James to say goodbye.  

He gave his head a shake to clear it. Was he really  _that_ guy? The womanizing - dare he say it - _diva_  type that acted above everyone else? Shame settled in Dan’s stomach. That absolutely had to change.

x

Dan had forced himself to stay off of his YouTube channel until he returned to his flat that afternoon, because what people said would only distract him. But he steeled himself and prepared for the worst as he began sifting through the comments of his new video - which had gathered several hundred thousand views in less than twenty-four hours.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the like/dislike ratio very strongly favored the likes, and the first few comments were lovely. There were several strings of comments discussing how ungrateful he was for thinking he could regain their loyalty just like that, but several people came to his defense.  _How could I possibly have left them? They’re too good to me._

Dan logged into his old social media accounts (thank god he never changed his passwords) and began revamping them to his liking so he could use them again. What was life if he couldn’t share it with random strangers on the internet, anyway?

_@danisnotonfire I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. excuse me while i complain about how different twitter is now like what is happening_

_@danisnotonfire i’ll do the courteous thing and wait at least three tweets to self-promote but yeah ~i made a video announcing my return to youtube~ if you’re into that_

_@danisnotonfire i’ve just made that sound like a kink but at this point it probably is_

_@danisnotonfire heres the link btw:_

Dan waited at least a few minutes between each tweet but eventually sent out the link to his abysmal number of followers (compared to what he used to have, anyway). Most of his YouTube friends were still following him, though. He hoped they could forgive him as graciously as his remaining subscribers had thus far.

Hope was an unfamiliar emotion for Dan of late - but it felt kind of nice to feel it again. And he was very hopeful: hopeful about acting, hopeful about changing the person he had apparently become, hopeful about rejoining YouTube, and hopeful about reconnecting with Phil. The only thing he had to worry about now was  _keeping_  himself hopeful if everything didn’t work out smoothly.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out only to be greeted by another text from Phil.

 _Welcome back to twitter! Good to see that the sass hasn’t faded over the years,_  Phil said.

 _Never,_ Dan replied, smiling.  _It’s who I am._

_Of course. You wouldn’t be Dan otherwise._

Dan smirked, wiping his finger over the screen even though there were no smudges to clean.

_I’m working on that at the moment. Apparently I haven’t really been myself._

_Has your memory come back at all?_

_No, but I’m starting to figure out who I’ve been. And I don’t like it. So I’m going to change it,_ Dan replied.

 _As long as you know what you want,_  Phil said simply. Dan’s smile was sad but broad.

_I do._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan attempts to right his wrongs, but that proves to be more complicated than he originally anticipated. Especially when he finally meets Phil’s husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to silverluminosity as always for being my power-beta. <3  
> I completely forgot to update on here so yay two chapters at once!

Any progress Dan had made in feeling like a proper adult, he realized, had been entirely for naught. It was Wednesday morning and he stared himself down in the mirror - and he might as well have been eighteen again. A lonely, lost boy nearly shaking with nervous excitement to see Phil. The uncertainty of how the meeting would work out left a lump in his throat and a tremor in his hands as he anxiously smoothed down his shirt - again.

He remembered his very deliberate choice of outfit that day almost  _twelve_ years ago: a plaid button down because he knew Phil liked them, which doubled as a distraction for his hands. He had actually picked off a few of the buttons by the end of the day, and couldn’t be bothered to fix them, so he never wore it again. Dan wondered idly if he still had it, but he didn’t have time to look. He was set to meet Phil at Starbucks in twenty minutes. He gave his fringe one last adjustment before heading out the door, using his nervous energy to climb down the stairs instead of taking the lift, which, surprisingly, did not leave him short of breath.

Dan tried to remind himself that everything had been alright as soon as he saw Phil - all of his hesitation and doubt and uncertainty squeezed away the second Phil pulled Dan into his arms. But things were so incredibly different now, and that was exactly the problem he was trying to eradicate.

Phil was already sat at a table when Dan arrived, a caramel macchiato in his hand and one on the other end of the table. Phil didn’t notice Dan, though - his gaze was fixed on a young woman attending to an infant nestled in a pram. Dan swallowed, affixing a smile to his face as he plopped down in the chair. Phil blinked rapidly, coming to, and smiled at Dan, wordlessly offering him the coffee.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” Dan said, taking a sip.

“That’s okay,” replied Phil, looking down at his own drink and stirring it. “‘S still my favorite. Although a cold drink probably would have been a better choice,” Phil continued, glancing out the window. “It’s been weirdly dry the past few days.”

Dan resisted the urge to smack Phil for resorting to weather-focused small talk. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t Phil’s best friend anymore. Baby steps.

“Yeah,” Dan said, quickly taking a large gulp of the steaming drink to give his eyes a better excuse to water. “So, uh, what have you been up to?” Dan asked, nudging his foot into Phil’s in encouragement. Their gazes locked, and Phil swallowed and took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his expression was soft.

“Well, I have my own radio show now,” Phil began.

“I saw! That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, I really like it. I have my own studio and everything; it’s kind of insane.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve learned how to press the right buttons, then?” Dan teased, and he earned a gentle shove from Phil.

“Actually shut up!” Phil protested, but he was laughing. “I may or may not have played an uncensored version of an Eminem song and had to stop it halfway through. You have no proof.”

“You did  _not._ ”

“I wish I hadn’t. I honestly feared for my job. I did manage to stop it before he said -” Phil paused, glancing at the child he had been looking at before. “A very naughty word.”

“What? Was it ‘fuck’? Maybe ‘cunt’?”

 _“Dan,”_ Phil gaped at him, and looked so genuinely affronted that Dan just threw his head back, laughing. “You’re tainting the ears of the innocent!”

“Babies can’t tell their arses from holes in the wall, I think it’s okay.”

 _“Dan,”_ Phil repeated, trying to hold back a smile and failing. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“I’m an awful excuse for a human, these are things we know,” Dan said, sipping his drink and smacking his lips loudly. Phil nudged Dan’s knee with his own.

“People are staring,” he said, giving his coffee another stir.  

“What?” Dan asked in mock ignorance. “Can’t a man enjoy his coffee in peace?”

“Maybe if he stopped swearing and being obnoxious,” Phil pointed out, but there was no annoyance in his voice.

“That’s hardly how I operate,” Dan said matter-of-factly, giving Phil a half-smile. Phil looked up and grinned back.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and swallowed a gulp of his coffee. Dan studied Phil’s face, waiting for him to take it back, but he never did. He just smiled again when he noticed Dan staring, and didn’t look away.

It suddenly occurred to Dan why they call it eye  _contact_. The warmth in Phil’s gaze felt nearly the same as the casual touches they once shared: when Phil would run his fingers through Dan’s hair when they wound up falling asleep together, or the little squeeze he’d give Dan’s knee as he sat down beside him. Something so simple that made him feel like Phil was always happy to see him.

They looked away simultaneously, and settled into a comfortable silence. Dan found it quite therapeutic, actually. No need to fill the air with mindless chatter. They had no shortage of things to talk about, what with all the catching up they needed to do, but there was no rush.

x

Dan and Phil wound up chatting and intermittently getting lost in their own thoughts for several hours, and it was more than Dan could ever have hoped for. Things weren’t back to ‘normal’, but if he had to accept that as his new normal, he could live with that. Eventually Phil said he had to go, as he had to stop back at his flat before heading to the BBC for work. Dan promised to tune into his show, and stood up as Phil did. His arms raised of their own accord, and this time, Phil noticed, and he opened his own. Dan grinned, slipping his arms around Phil’s waist and giving him a quick squeeze.

“I’ll see you soon?” Dan asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, hooking his thumbs into his pockets.

“Actually, I was thinking of going out on Friday night for my birthday. Nothing huge, just going to a pub or something with a few people. Would you maybe want to come?”

Phil frowned. “I had plans - but I could reschedule. I usually leave the BBC around 8:30 so I could meet up with you after.”

“That’d work, yeah. See you then,” Dan said, giving Phil a shy smile. He hoped he wasn’t pushing the limits of their tentative new friendship by asking to see him again so soon. But Phil could have refused so easily, so Dan pushed the thought from his brain.

Phil smiled back and gave Dan a wave as he left the shop. Dan didn’t have anywhere to be, so he took advantage of the free Wi-Fi and perused twitter on his phone.

Naturally, his spontaneous return to the internet raised a lot of questions - most of them quite valid. It’d feel dishonest to leave everyone in the dark about the things he was willing to talk about, like his acting career and his rekindled friendship with Phil.

The internet must have found out about their falling out somehow, and his stomach gave a twist at the thought. Obviously it hurt Dan and Phil more than it could ever hurt their subscribers, but it was tough to imagine being in their place and getting little to no explanation of why their favorite duo had suddenly stopped working, living, and being together. From what he could tell, the theories were plentiful. But they deserved as much of the truth as Dan was willing - and able - to share.

He had summarily abandoned the people who had stood by him and helped him live his dream. The guilt pooled in Dan’s chest, weighing him down as he buried his face in his hands.

 _It’s okay - if they forgive you, you can forgive yourself. Phil’s forgiven you - at least a little. Don’t let it stop you from doing what’s right,_ he told himself.

_@danisnotonfire I’m filming a Q &A! send me your burning questions and I’ll do my best to answer them_

_@danisnotonfire also thank you guys for sticking by me i really love you all a lot and ill probably never stop apologizing for being a douchecanoe_

He sent out the tweets before he lost his nerve, and trudged back to his apartment.

x

“Hey internet! Today I’m answering your questions about my glorious return from the dead. I figure I should get right to it so here we go,” Dan picked up his phone and read off of the list he had made. “‘Dan where the fuck have you been?’”

Dan paused, taking a deep breath and setting his phone down. “I wish I could tell you guys that I was meditating in the desert and figuring everything out like Jesus or something, but that’s hardly what happened. I honestly don’t know what came over me, but I was just in this horrible _funk_. It’s like I haven’t even been me for the past six years.”

He swallowed, thinking of how to phrase this properly. “But I haven’t just been staring into oblivion - as some of you might know, I kind of threw myself into acting. I’m now an actor at the actual  _Globe Theater,_  which is really cool. But I had a wake up call recently, and I realized that I’m not - I dunno - like I’m not  _whole_  without YouTube. It’s part of who I am: the person I want to be, not the idiot that I’ve been.”

Dan sighed. A healthy amount of self-deprecation was certainly in order, as had always been the case with his videos, but he couldn’t spend the whole video putting himself down. Especially not after such a long absence. He had to be more positive this time round. He looked down at his phone again.

“‘What happened with the radio show?’” Dan sighed. “Right, yeah. After my little meltdown, which I will talk about more in a moment, I quit. They gave the show to Phil and he’s done an incredible job with it. I just listened right before filming this, actually.”

Dan paused, unsure if that last bit was going to make it into the final cut.

“‘Are you planning on picking up where you left off with your channel?’” Dan put down his phone and sat up a little straighter. “That’s a really good question, actually. Well, I’ve always said that my channel is the chronicles of the failure that is my life so I suppose that’ll continue. I’ll probably stick to my old format for a while until I figure out how I’d like to alter my style. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do; YouTube has changed a  _lot_  and I don’t want to seem like a dinosaur so bear with me.”

“‘Where are you living now? Are you still in London?’ Well, your stalking skills could certainly use some work. But yes, I am still in London. I’d give you a tour of my flat but it’s honestly the least exciting thing in the world. I seem to have gotten boring in my old age. I need to get some stuff up on my walls. Maybe I’ll open another P.O. Box so you guys can help me with that? I dunno, we’ll see.”

Dan grinned, but it slid off of his face as he scrolled down to the next question.

“‘What happened with you and Phil?’” Dan nodded to the camera, steeling himself; he took a deep breath in, and tried to choose his words as carefully as possible. He really didn’t want to do multiple takes of this particular answer.

“This is probably the most important question thus far, and you guys have deserved this answer for a long time.”

He paused, wondering where to begin. “Well, everything that Phil told you way back when was true, obviously. We had a falling out and stopped living and working together. It was…really hard on both of us. What he didn’t tell you was that it was my fault.

“I’ve been apologizing a lot lately, and of course I’m sorry for abandoning you guys, but… that hardly compares to the apology I owe Phil. I was selfish and too pigheaded to see that  _I_ was the one who caused all of my own problems - and the problems in our friendship. If I had been honest with myself sooner, I wouldn’t have blown up at him and left. And, well, that’s exactly what I did.” Dan swallowed; he was thankful that he couldn’t remember that. Although, the way he imagined it - too many times - couldn’t have been far from actuality.

“Recently, though, I was in a tough spot and Phil was there for me. After years of me being an absolute twat, he still dropped everything to be a better friend to me than I’ve been to him in a long time. So I’m happy to report that we are rebuilding our friendship. It’s more than I deserve, but if all of you, and Phil, think I’m worthy of forgiveness, then I guess I can live with myself for a while.”

Dan paused, looking down at his lap and willing himself not to cry.

“Phil, I know you’re probably watching so I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you, with the whole of the internet as my witness, how sorry I am. I… You were always more important than my pride. You only tried to help but I wasn’t ready to face reality. There’s no excuse for what I did, and I’m so sorry. If I could take it all back - ”

He cut himself off. No need to dwell in the impossible.

“I won’t waste the second chance you’ve given me. You - you’re truly amazing,” Dan said, and he had to smile because that was the lamest ending to an apology ever. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I intend to make the most of the second chances I’ve been given. And I’m going to shut up about doing stuff and actually go do it, so I’ll see you guys next time. Bye, internet.”

x

PJ was the only other person Dan plucked up the courage to ask to come out with him on his birthday. He wasn’t sure where he stood with his other friends, and frankly, wasn’t sure he wanted to know who or what else he had extracted from his life.

By PJ’s suggestion, they met at a rather quiet pub close to the BBC at 8:30.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” PJ greeted him as Dan approached the table, springing out of his seat and pulling Dan into a hug. Dan clapped him on the back.

“Thanks, Peej. Thanks for coming.”

“Absolutely,” PJ replied, scooting back into the booth while Dan sat opposite him. PJ presented Dan with a small box.

“Aw, c’mon, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Consider it a birthday slash welcome-back-to-Youtube present. Since you’re turning thirty, I picked out something appropriately grown-up,” PJ said with a grin, handing Dan the box.

“It’s not a sex toy, is it?” Dan muttered under his breath as he opened the lid and pulled a strip of fabric from it. It was a bowtie with keyboard print.

“Ah, that’s amazing!” Dan said, slipping it under his collar and doing it up. “Thanks, Peej. I really like it.”

“You’re welcome,” PJ replied, leaning back in his seat. “May I ask what it was that inspired you to make videos again?”

“The mere realization that I had stopped. It kind of hit me like a ton of bricks and I was like  _what am I doing if I’m not making videos_ , you know? Well, actually, you probably don’t know; you never run out of creative juice.”

Dan had taken it upon himself to catch up on as much of PJ’s work as possible. PJ had continued making YouTube videos and independent short films, and his content and its scale had only grown.

PJ shrugged. “I just have a lot of inspiration.”

“You take inspiration from carpet fibers,” Dan said, laughing. “I wish I had a speck of your creativity. Your last short film was  _brilliant_.”

PJ smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. There’s a role in my next one that would be perfect for you, if you’d like it.”

“Of course, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” PJ said, looking down at his hands, which were clasped together on the table. “Before your marvelous return, you said you didn’t want to be on YouTube anymore. That you preferred stage acting and wanted to stay off the internet.”

“Oh,” Dan said, and he hoped that was the only bomb that PJ would drop on him. Frankly, he was beginning to grow weary of people he knew, because they knew things about him that he didn’t - and they usually weren’t good.

“Well, that’s hardly the case now. I’d love to be in your film.”

“Good, glad to have you back,” PJ commended, and a waitress approached the table and asked for their orders. Dan requested a round of cocktails, taking the liberty of getting a drink for Phil.

“You know, I  _was_  beginning to worry about you, Dan. You’ve been, I dunno, off - for a long time. It’s good to see you acting like yourself again.”

“Yeah, it’s good to finally  _be_ myself again. I was really lost.”

“Well I find that being lost doesn’t always mean that hope is gone. I see it as an adventure; an opportunity to find something new.”

Dan half-smiled, looking down at the table. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice was suddenly beside Dan, and a grin spanned his face when he saw it was Phil.

Phil greeted and hugged PJ  before turning his attention to Dan.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” he said with a smile, handing Dan a large gift bag. Dan groaned.

“I seriously didn’t expect presents,” he said, pulling the tissue paper out of the bag and scooting over as Phil sat down next to him.

“Exactly,” Phil said, obvious excitement in his wide eyes.

After removing several layers of packaging, Dan unearthed a rather squishy pillow. He squeezed it automatically, and he nearly dropped it when it lit up.

“It has LED lights in it,” Phil informed him. Dan watched the cushion glow through a rainbow of colors with rapt fascination, and PJ let out a soft  _ooh_.

“This is incredible, Phil. Why did you think to get it for me?”

“You said your flat was bland, so I thought I’d give it some light.”

“You certainly have,” Dan said, squishing the pillow to turn it off and reluctantly putting it back in the bag. He was going to cuddle that thing  _so hard._

The waitress came back with their drinks, and Phil raised his eyebrows at the glass she put in front of him.

“What, do you not like that one anymore?” Dan asked.

“No, I do - I’m just surprised you remembered is all,” he said, taking a sip.

“‘Course I did,” Dan mumbled, glancing at PJ, who was smiling.

“So, Phil - how’ve you been?” PJ asked, taking a gulp of his drink.

The conversation quickly drifted from polite catching up to a heated debate about the pros and cons of extraterrestrial life contacting humans.

“Okay, it’d be really cool,” Dan conceded. “But seriously, think about it: aliens intelligent enough to communicate with us. Obviously they’d be smart enough to know that we’re a threat to them.”

“A threat? Why would we threaten the aliens?” Phil asked.

“Well…actually, we probably wouldn’t. But actions speak louder: we’re destroying our own planet, leave all kinds of space junk floating around the universe for eternity, and have a weird superiority complex.”

“I think peaceful communication would be their intent,” PJ piped in. “Obviously, the aliens would have a reason for talking to us, and they probably wouldn’t think it wise to wage intergalactic war.”

“Fair enough,” said Dan, refusing another drink from the waitress, as he was already feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Someone’s phone gave a loud chorus of lively ringtone music, and Dan raised his eyebrows at PJ and Phil. PJ gave an apologetic frown and retrieved his phone from his pocket.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said, scooting out of the booth and onto his feet. He raised the phone to his ear and ducked out of the pub.

“Do you really think that aliens would be out to get us?” Phil asked, regarding Dan curiously.

“I dunno. People debate the existence of aliens all the time. But I think the more important question is if they do exist, do we want them to find us?”

Phil seemed to ponder that as he drained his glass.

“Seems kinda cynical,” he said, idly tracing the rim of the glass with his finger. “Could be an opportunity to learn a lot about another species, or another part of the universe.”

“Do you know me to be anything less than a cynical bastard?”

Phil smiled. “You’re not as cynical as you make yourself out to be. You don’t always have faith, but you have hope,” he said, looking up at Dan.

Dan suddenly realized why he was so tired of people knowing him better than he did: Phil had been doing it for years.

PJ returned to the table, sliding into the booth and reaching into his pocket.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go. There’s been an issue securing the shooting location for my film. The shoot is supposed to happen tomorrow, and it’s really important I don’t fall behind in the production.”

He retrieved some money from his wallet and set it on the table.

“That’s okay,” said Dan. “That’s much more important. Go ahead.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, Peej. Let us know how it works out.”

“Thanks for understanding,” PJ replied, standing up and giving each of them another hug. He wished Dan a happy birthday one last time, and left the pub.

Phil clicked the button on his phone so it would display the time. It was just after 11.

“If you have to go too, it’s okay,” Dan said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No, I don’t,” Phil reassured him. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, taking out his wallet to pay for his drinks. Phil placed his hand over Dan’s.

“Nope, it’s your birthday. I’m paying.” Dan’s protests went unacknowledged as Phil put his money on the table, grabbed Dan by the shoulder, and led them out of the pub.

Phil’s eyes immediately trailed upward when they stepped outside. He frowned.

“Shame you can’t see the stars. Too cloudy.”

“Guess the aliens have a crappy view of us, too, then.”

“Do telescopes work through clouds?” Phil wondered, starting to walk towards the city center. Dan quickly fell in step with him.

“Not from the earth’s surface. But from the outside? I dunno.”

Phil nodded, but didn’t reply. They strolled in silence for a while, until Phil spoke up.

“Did you do anything else today? For your birthday, I mean?”

“Not really. Went to third read-through this morning. I didn’t fuck up as many of my lines this time, which was good. Lucy gave me the birthday present of, and I quote, ‘not taking as much of the piss outta you’,” he said in an exaggerated Northern accent. Phil laughed.

“Well, you are one of the stars. Surely the cast would have organized to get you a cake or something?”

“Nah, most of them don’t like me. Pretty sure Lucy is the only one who does.”

“Why’s that?”

Dan sighed. “I’m figuring out more bullshit about myself every day. Apparently I’m a huge diva and no one in my theater likes me. My mum rang me today, and she was  _shocked_  that I answered the phone. My gran did too, and spent half the conversation guilting me about missing my brother’s university graduation.” Dan ran his hand through his hair, pulling on it and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt a gentle pressure on his arm.

“Dan, it’s okay,” Phil said, coaxing Dan’s hand back down to his side.

“No, it’s really not, Phil. What kind of person am I? The kind of person who ignores their family, walks out on their best friend, abandons their career for a new one in which they think they’re better than everyone else, and has random one-night-stands with girls they meet in bars? That’s who I am now.”

Phil stopped walking, but Dan kept going. He should have known that this was a bad idea.

He felt Phil’s hand slip into his, grasping his palm and making him halt. Dan turned on the spot, scowling, but when he saw Phil’s soft expression his face fell.

“Dan,” Phil repeated, giving his hand a squeeze. “Don’t you see? You’re not that person anymore. You’ve made changes. You’ve taken initiative to be better and do what you want. I’m really proud of you.”

Dan blinked back tears. “See, you can’t do that to me. I don’t deserve -”

Phil cut him off by pulling Dan into a hug, wrapping his arms around Dan’s neck and pulling him down just a hair so that Dan’s head rested on Phil’s shoulder.

“Don’t make me squeeze the negativity out of you,” Phil said. Dan slipped his hands around Phil’s waist and hugged him tight.

“Might take a while,” Dan said, closing his eyes and allowing himself to melt into Phil’s touch and recognize how starved for it he was.

“I’ve got time,” Phil murmured, rubbing Dan’s back soothingly.

They stood there, wrapped in each other, for an indeterminate amount of time, before Phil broke the silence.

“I’ve always cared about you, Dan. I wish you had come to me sooner,” Phil whispered into Dan’s hair. Dan pulled away, just enough to make eye contact.

“I should never have left.”

Phil placed his hands on either side of Dan’s face, gently wiping away a tear.

“I know,” he said with a sad smile. “And, apology accepted.”

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but a drop of moisture that didn’t come from his eyes fell on his cheek. Phil must have noticed, too, because he frowned at the drop as he wiped it away. It clicked for both of them simultaneously, and they tilted their heads back to look at the sky. It had started to rain.

Phil laughed, and Dan stared at him, bewildered.

“What’s so funny about rain?”

“Nothing, I’ve just missed it!” Phil said excitedly, disentangling himself from Dan, grabbing Dan’s hand, and leading him out into an empty square.

“I missed you, too,” Dan said, and he didn’t even think that was funny or cute, but Phil gave his hand a squeeze in response, so it couldn’t have been  _that_  bad. Dan let Phil drag him to the center of the square as the rain picked up from a drizzle to a proper shower.

“Aren’t we too old for this?” Dan had to yell a little over the patter of the rain on the pavement.

“Never!” Phil responded, finally halting. “I wish I had an umbrella so I could do a proper dance number!”

“Right, because  _that’s_ what an umbrella should be used for in this situation!” Dan said, shaking his head and laughing. Water splashed out of his hair and into Phil’s eyes, making him sputter and rub them under his glasses.

“Watch it!”

 _“You_  watch it!” Dan said, gleefully snatching Phil’s glasses from him and bolting across the square. He waved them above his head tauntingly, cackling at the sight of Phil barreling after him.

“Dan! Get back here! I can’t see!”

“Should just wear contacts then, Velma!” Dan teased, pausing so that Phil could catch up to him, but he didn’t lower his arm.

Phil caught up to him, panting and trying not to laugh, and reached up to grab his glasses from Dan, which were  _just_  out of his reach. Phil threw an arm around Dan’s neck, pushing down and standing on his toes while Dan laughed loudly. He wrapped his arm around Phil’s waist, trying to combat Phil’s efforts to make himself taller.

“Why do you have such long arms?!” Phil said, nearly grabbing his glasses despite Dan’s opposition.

“Fine, here,” Dan said, relaxing, and Phil rested his reaching arm on Dan’s shoulder. He carefully placed Phil’s glasses back on his face, curling his arm around Phil’s waist, clamping his fingers together, and settling his hands on Phil’s back.

“We’re such children,” Phil said, giggling. He wrinkled his nose. “Now all I need are tiny wipers to keep the water off them so I can  _actually_  see.”

“Like I said, contacts.”

“Shut up,” Phil said, smiling.

“Make me,” Dan retorted without thinking. They were still tangled up in their post-play-fight position, and it was still raining, and Phil was still beautiful under the dim light of the streetlamp, soaked to the bone, snickering and regarding Dan with wide, curious eyes over his glasses.

Phil ran the fingers of his free hand through Dan’s wet, curling hair, as though contemplating something. Dan held his breath, his eyes never leaving Phil’s, as though he were attempting to read Phil’s thoughts.

“I’ve always liked your hair curly,” Phil murmured, letting his hand trail against the side of Dan’s face until it fell at his side again.

“We have the same likes and dislikes, except I like your glasses,” Dan said, smiling a little and hoping Phil would understand. The corners of Phil’s mouth quirked up for a moment, but he didn’t smile. Dan’s chest ached for that simpler time, in which he could say things like that without fear. Phil gently pushed his way out of Dan’s embrace, and Dan nodded a few times, as if to tell Phil he understood.

Phil swallowed. “My flat’s not far from here, you can come there to dry off and wait for the rain to stop.”

“Okay, yeah,” Dan said quietly. A shiver ran up his spine, as if his body suddenly remembered that he was standing in the pouring rain. In an aborted movement Dan wished he didn’t see, Phil reached for Dan’s hand, but stopped himself, instead opting to just walk in the appropriate direction. Dan walked beside him, crossing his arms and hanging his head to keep the rain out of his face. He watched his and Phil’s shoes step in time with each other, silent the whole way there.

Phil led Dan into the lobby of a rather nice building, and saw Phil give the man at the front desk an apologetic smile for tracking water and god knows what else onto the floor. They stepped into the lift, and Phil pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“Nigel should still be out with his friends,” Phil said quietly, but he continued quickly. “Don’t worry about getting the floor dirty; I’ve been meaning to wash it for ages.”

“Sure, yeah,” Dan said, unable to make eye contact.  _Yeah, remember his husband? You can’t go around holding him and reminding him of when you were in love and hoping that he’ll fucking -_

The lift stopped at the fourth floor, and he gestured for Phil to walk out of it first. Phil led the way to his door, unlocked it, and opened it for Dan.

Dan surveyed the flat as he took off his soaked jacket, murmuring his thanks to Phil, who took it from him and disappeared from the room. Dan wandered around the lounge, running his hand over the suede of the couch, watching it turn from dark to light under his fingers. The room was very cozy: several lamps emitted a warm glow and it smelled sweet. The furniture was almost too big for the room, but that was probably the fault of the baby grand piano in the corner.

Dan’s feet marched him to it of their own accord, and he sat at the bench, poising his fingers over the keys and thinking of something to play. He glanced at the sheet music propped up in front of him, and the title and composer jogged his memory. He tapped a key a few times to get a feel for the sound of the piano - which was perfectly in tune - and then [began to play.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_li_hMbk0sE)

He didn’t even notice that Phil had returned until the latter sat down beside him. Dan smiled at Phil shyly, but didn’t stop playing, letting the muscle memory take over and fill the flat with music. Phil grinned back, and at that relaxed Dan a little, his shoulders falling and his fingers moving more swiftly. Phil immediately turned his attention to Dan’s hands, watching him play. Dan followed his gaze, his brow creasing in concentration as the tempo picked up.

Dan attributed his piano skill to his fast typing ability. After all, what was the difference, really? You learn which movements produce which outcome, whether it be a word or a note. And he supposed piano sounded nicer than the obnoxious clacking of buttons on a keyboard. But that couldn’t explain the way Phil was watching Dan’s fingers work with rapt fascination.

Dan had rarely let Phil watch him play the piano; he was too self-conscious. But the music seemed to just seep from his fingertips, and he felt almost at peace. Phil didn’t seem angry at what had happened before, and if he was content, then Dan could be too.  

“Does this piece have words?” Phil asked softly. Dan shook his head and tilted his chin towards the sheet music.

“Sunrise,” Phil murmured appreciatively. “Kind of sounds like one somehow. Except with less bird chirping and more - something.” Phil fell silent, and Dan glanced at him. Phil had closed his eyes and bobbed his head a little to the tune.  

Dan was decent at piano, but not good enough to carry on a conversation while playing. He nodded to indicate that he understood, and continued playing. He didn’t know why - maybe the song was similar to something off a film score - but Dan had really  _felt_  this piece the first time he heard it. It reminded him of why he loved music so much. It was just a series of pleasant sounds strung together, but it made something stir inside him and immediately yearn to know how to play it.

It made him think of beautiful things, really. He was more of a sunset than a sunrise person, so the images of dark pink and red and orange on the horizon came to mind. Of the city of Manchester at night. Of cool wind stinging his face on a hot day. Of Phil laughing.

“Something, yeah,” he finally said, giving Phil’s foot a nudge and grinning. In return, Phil poked his finger into Dan’s dimple, making both of them giggle. They were both quiet for a while, content to just listen until they could decide what that something was.

Phil yawned, and let himself flop onto Dan’s shoulder, resting his head in the crook of Dan’s neck.

“This is making me sleepy,” Phil whispered.

“Nope. Not yet. Almost done,” Dan said, ignoring the chill of Phil’s wet hair against his neck. He felt much too warm to care. He pressed his cheek against Phil’s head, not minding that the distraction made him screw up a few times. He finished the song with a dramatic press of the final key.

“I lied. You can’t sleep until you’ve given me dry clothes,” Dan said softly. His hands were now unoccupied, which left him with the strong urge to reach out and take Phil’s between them. He shoved them between his knees.

“Do I have to move?” Phil whined.

“No,” Dan replied with a sigh.  _Please don’t._

Phil sat up abruptly, knocking his head into Dan’s chin in his haste. “Beginning,” he said.

“What?”

“The song. That’s what it sounds like. Like something starting.”

“The start of something new?” Dan teased, and quickly played the opening notes of the song from High School Musical.

“No,” Phil said, but he was laughing. “And yes.”

Dan stopped and contemplated that for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right.” He idly played the slowest part of  _Sunrise_ , considering each sound carefully.

“You hear it?” Phil said, a grin spanning his face.

“Mhm,” Dan replied, not taking his eyes off of Phil. “I feel it.”

Dan could have sworn he saw Phil’s cheeks redden as he gave Dan a sad smile. Phil stared down at his lap, twisting his wedding ring round his finger.

 _You can’t say things like that to a married man, dammit._ Dan reminded himself. He swallowed, trying to get the image of what he wanted to do out of his head.

Phil stood up, grabbing a pile of clothes that he must have retrieved earlier off of the coffee table. He handed them to Dan, who murmured his thanks and followed Phil’s pointed finger in the direction of the bathroom.

While he was changing, he heard what could only be Nigel coming home. He took an unnecessarily long amount of time to change clothes and adjust his hair, which was curly beyond repair. The dry fabric did nothing to help his shivers. He ran his hands over his arms repeatedly, but the goosebumps wouldn’t go away.

 _You’re a grown man. Go out there and meet your best friend’s husband,_ he told himself, and he balled his wet clothes in his fist and trudged to the lounge.

Nigel was nearly as tall as Phil, and had a bubbly laugh that radiated through the whole flat. He brushed his fingers through Phil’s wet hair, saying something about  _I told you to always bring an umbrella, darling._ Dan’s eyes lingered much too long on the ring on Nigel’s finger: a ring that Phil put there in a ceremony that Dan was not present at.

Dan awkwardly shuffled into the room, trying not to disturb the moment but unable to look away. He always felt weird watching couples do any sort of couple thing; like romance was something private that he should not bear witness to. Nigel looked up and saw Dan standing in the doorway, and a bright smile spanned his face.

“You must be Dan! Phil told me all about you,” he said. He strode forward and squeezed Dan into a hug before he could react.

“Good to meet you,” Dan replied politely, pulling away.

Nigel sat down on the sofa, and Phil sat beside him automatically. Dan perched on the edge of an armchair, unsure of what to say, if anything. Thankfully, Nigel didn’t let the silence last long.

“Phil told me that you two reconnected. It’s always great to reconnect with old friends, isn’t it?” He smiled at Phil and rested his hand on Phil’s knee. Dan wondered for a second if Nigel was being facetious, or, with a nervous twist of his stomach, that he had somehow seen what had gone on between them. But, it was abundantly clear that Nigel didn’t know about a lot of their history. Phil smiled back, placing his hand on top of Nigel’s. Dan looked away.

“Yeah, I’m glad you called, Dan,” Phil said, and Dan glanced back at him. Dan couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation was going to be carefully constructed to maintain Nigel’s ignorance. But the thing about Phil was that he didn’t do insincerity.

“Should’ve done it sooner,” Dan said, agreeing with Phil’s previous statement before he realized what he was saying. He really didn’t want to make Phil uncomfortable.

“Aw, no reason to dwell on the past,” Nigel piped in. “You’re here now, so that’s all that matters. Did you have fun at your birthday celebration?”

“I’d hardly call it a celebration, but yeah. I can’t believe I’m thirty,” Dan said, widening his eyes at the thought. Nigel laughed.

“Well, you know what they say: it’s all downhill from here,” Nigel replied, giving Dan a dramatic wink. Dan chuckled.

“I should really go. I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he said, standing up. It felt wrong to be in their space. Like he was polluting it.

“You can stay if you want,” said Phil. “The guest room’s being slowly,” he shot a glance at Nigel, “ _very_  slowly converted into a nursery, but there’s still a bed and stuff.”

 _Sure, I’d love to stay in the room of your future child,_ he thought acidly.

“Thanks, but I should get going.” Dan picked his wet clothes off the floor, and Nigel immediately went to get him a bag for them.

“I had a really good time, Dan,” Phil said, absentmindedly brushing a stray curl from Dan’s face. Phil blinked rapidly, glancing around the room. “Did you grab your present when we left the pub?”

“Oh,  _fuck_. I must have left it under the table. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure they still have it there.”

“Yeah - I’ll go get it on my way home.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Nigel had returned with the bag for Dan’s clothes, taking them from his hand and folding them neatly.

“No, that’s okay. It’s on the way.”

“Okay,” Phil said. “Well, Text me when you make it home, yeah?”

“Of course, yeah.”

He gave a hug each to Nigel and Phil before he left, thanking them profusely for their hospitality. They led him to the door and saw Dan off, waving to him before he turned the corner. Nigel’s arm slid easily around Phil’s waist and Dan had to force himself to smile, his jaw tightening around the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. He had no right to be angry or jealous. Phil was never really his to begin with.

But that didn’t stop him from angrily jamming the button for the lift, his head bowed in silent, private humiliation.

He felt guilty. He felt guilty because Phil was married and Dan was a bug on the windshield. He felt guilty for being wary of Nigel when he was clearly so good for Phil, and for being so possessive of Phil when it wasn’t his place. And he was guilty for feeling so giddy that Phil was actually  _receptive_  to his affection, even if it was on a different wavelength from what he actually wanted. He was angry about all of it.

And he felt guilty because, if he was being totally honest with himself, he didn’t actually feel that guilty at all.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan’s complicated relationship with Phil starts to spill over into other areas of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what I would do if silverluminosity wasn’t around to point out all the awesome symbolism I unwittingly put into my own writing.

Dan had to remind himself that he was, in fact, a professional actor, several times a day as rehearsals wore on. Hugh had moved rehearsals to a large room with a stage the size of the one they’d be performing on, and insisted that no one need a script by the following week. But memorizing lines and taking stage direction were just fine with Dan. It was the whole ‘Romeo’ thing that was getting to him.

Romeo was a passionate, impulsive character; not unlike Dan in that aspect, really. He had no problem relating to Romeo on that front. It was the romance that was the issue.

His last encounter with Phil would not leave his mind, nor would the confusion and guilt it left in its wake. It also didn’t help that the clothes Phil had lent Dan smelled like the same damn laundry soap he used to use. Smell was the strongest invoker of memory out of all the senses, and it made him think of the time Phil had done laundry while he nodded off on the sofa. When he woke up, Phil’s still-warm duvet was draped over him.

He was supposed to be playing the lead in the most iconic love story ever told and here he was, wallowing in the pile of shit that was his own love life.

And that’s what he was thinking about while he was kissing Lucy for the upteenth time that day, and he knew he was doing a shit job of it. It was just her and Hugh in the room; but for some reason Dan felt like he couldn’t open up. Like if he allowed himself to feel the emotions necessary to perform a halfway decent kiss, the floodgates would open and he might do something stupid like cry.

 _“You kiss by th’book,”_ Lucy said, hardly repressing a snort, and it was obviously Lucy and not Juliet speaking. Dan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, glancing from Lucy to Hugh and back.

“Sorry, I know that was bad,” Dan said. Obviously the kiss wasn’t supposed to be particularly pleasurable, but Dan knew it was chaste. Careful. Infinitely out of character and probably painful to watch.

Hugh raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll give you two some privacy to practice,” he said with a heavy sigh, muttering something about  _you’re only_ playing  _teenagers, for God’s sake,_ as he left the room.

“You had no problem kissing me when they paired us off at callbacks,” Lucy said. She crossed her arms and sized him up. “You’ve certainly changed.”

“Good,” Dan muttered, rolling his shoulders. Lucy smiled.

“I know it’s not my concern, but I have to ask - what was it? You’ve done a complete one-eighty in a matter of weeks. You were the picture of confidence before, and now…” She trailed off. Dan’s shoulders slumped, and she placed a hand on one of them gently.

“I had a wake up call,” Dan said, shrugging. He didn’t mean for it to dismiss her touch, but she must have taken it as such, as her hand retracted. He gave her an apologetic smile.

“Suddenly, I realized that I was my own worst nightmare. I learned so many things about myself that I’d have hardly believed seven years ago.”

“Like what?” she encouraged, placing her script on the stage and sitting down cross-legged. She patted the space beside her. Dan fumbled on his way down, landing hard on his arse and making her giggle.

“Well, for example,” Dan continued, half-smiling at his clumsiness, bending his knees, and hugging his legs to his chest. “I walked out on the person I love. I abandoned everything I ever wanted. I was apparently an unbearable diva.”

“I can attest to that. It was in everything you did. You didn’t walk, you sauntered. You didn’t act, you performed. Which is what probably got you all the parts you’ve had, but still.” Lucy looked down at her lap, picking at a stray thread on her skirt.

“I know I was an arse to you, and I’m sorry.” She looked up, placed a hand on his foot, and squeezed it gently.

“Apology accepted. You clearly understand the brilliance that is my acting now.”

Dan laughed.

“Indeed. You don’t fuck up simple things like a kiss.”

“I’ve got plenty of practice,” she said, moving her hand back to her lap and giving him a wink.

Dan tried to smile but instead sighed, looking away.

“Like I said, none of my business, but maybe your performance issues have to do with some of the other things you mentioned?” she offered.

“I don’t have ‘performance issues’,” Dan said, laughing, but the sound came out wrong. He took a breath. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

Lucy gave a sympathetic nod. “I know it’s just acting, but sometimes it can hit home. In fact, sometimes it’s better when it does. But I had a hard time acting in love after my last breakup. It happens.”

Dan smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve got the opposite problem.”

He paused. Dan wasn’t good at opening up to people. But he decided he needed someone else he could trust besides Phil or PJ. And if there was one thing he had learned, it was that if you trust people, they might surprise you.

“In here,” he began, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings, “I’m supposed to be madly in love. Out there, I’m not. I seem to be getting the two confused, even though I’m supposed to be an actor.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

“The person I love but walked out on? We were never  _really_ together. We…”

He hesitated.

“We were… getting there, you know? But I - I chickened out. And now that I’ve finally realized that all I want is to be with him, it’s way too late. Like half-past Never Going to Happen. He’s married and I’m an idiot because I can’t put my feelings aside long enough to do my damn job.”

Lucy frowned. “I’m sorry, Dan. I really am.” She paused, placing her hand back on his shoe and squeezing. “You’re not an idiot. You’re really brilliant, actually. You don’t have to  _pretend_ to be smart. You have something intelligent to say about everything. But I don’t know you to be self-pitying.”

“Aren’t I allowed a bit of self-pity? I’m not even close to being over him and I don’t know how to do it. Or if I even  _want_ to. And he’ll never know, as long as I can help it, because it wouldn’t be fair to him to tell him now. Now that he’s married and we’re finally friends again.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s my only best friend. He gave me the courage to pursue the things I didn’t even know I wanted. And, honestly, I’m fucking insulting him by being such a damn coward. It’s an insult to how much he helped me grow as a person that I just backpedaled and fucked everything up.”

Lucy was silent for a few moments, nodding contemplatively at the stage. She looked up.

“Well, seems like he put the stars in the sky, but does he have a name?”

“Phil,” Dan said, resting his cheek on his knee. “And he put a lot more than the stars in the sky. And I resented him for it.”

“Sounds like you two have a rich history. But surely his friendship is what’s most important? At least you have that.”

“Yeah. I wish it were enough for me. But I’m selfish.”

“Selfish for wanting the man you love to love you too? Selfish for wishing you could take back a terrible mistake? That’s not selfish. It’s just tragic.” Lucy picked up her script and ran the pages through her fingers. “Just like our star cross’d lovers. Maybe they were dumb and dramatic but they didn’t deserve the hand they were dealt.”

“Overall, I think they could have handled it better.” They both laughed.

“Given the choice, I’m sure Romeo would have picked having Juliet around rather than not at all, even if it hurt him.”

“Romeo didn’t do well with broken hearts,” Dan said.

 _Neither do I,_ he didn’t say.

“Not at all. But it gets easier,” she said, standing up and offering her his hand. He accepted it, and shifted until he was upright again. “And you can channel it into your work, of course. Being tragically in love is at the heart of this story.”

“Method acting at its finest, I suppose,” he said, smirking.

“What do you say we give this another go? Hugh will have our heads if we don’t get it right.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it this time.”

“I’m a poor substitute for your Phil, I’m sure. But maybe it’d help if you thought about him.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth turned up. “You remind me of him a little. You sound like him, too, before I Southern-ized him.”

“Fiends, you Southerners are,” she replied. “Shall we?”

“Ready when you are.”

Lucy climbed onto the short bench that Hugh had had ‘the most glorious epiphany’ about.

Romeo and Juliet catch each other’s eye across a crowded room, and then Romeo rushes to her, takes her hand, and woos her. Hugh decided that Lucy would climb onto the bench to get a better look at Dan after they make eye contact. Meanwhile, Dan would have already made his way across the stage. He would surprise her by taking her hand, and she would stroll along the bench as they flirt while Dan still has her hand in his. They would kiss when she reaches the end of the bench.

The prop also had the advantage of compensating for the large height difference between them, and Lucy, in all her grace, pretended not to know that. It did render her as tall as Dan, which was a bit odd, but Hugh insisted that was the purpose of the visual was for some symbolic reason that Dan did not pay that much attention to. Hugh was very fond of the sound of his own voice, and Dan was not.

They assumed their positions, and Dan swooped in and took Lucy’s hand in both of his own.

_“If I profane with my unworthiest hand_

_This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:_

_My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand_

_To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”_

Dan recited, as he had a dozen a times before, but he never failed to be impressed with Romeo’s suaveness. Romeo showed a divine reverence for Juliet’s beauty, and made it known in line after line of beautiful poetry. Meanwhile, the most romantic thing Dan had ever said got caught in his throat, and Phil never heard it.

_“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,_

_Which mannerly devotion shows in this,_

_For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,_

_And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”_

Lucy grabbed one of Dan’s hands, pressing their palms together and starting to stroll slowly towards where the audience would be, her eyes never leaving Dan’s. Dan continued:

_“Have saints not lips, and holy palmers too?”_

_“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”_

_“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do._

_They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”_

Lucy stopped walking, as she had reached the end of the bench, and they faced each other.

_“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”_

Dan slid his fingers between Lucy’s, closing around her hand.

_“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”_

Lucy reciprocated the movement as Dan reached out with his free hand, cradling her face as he leaned in.

Their lips pressed together gently at first, but then Dan remembered he was supposed to be channeling his angst into his work, and kissed her like he meant it one more time before pulling back.

 _“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,”_ he said, lowering his hand to her waist.

 _“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,”_ she replied coyly, resting her free hand on his shoulder.

_“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!_

_Give me my sin again.”_

They kissed once more, and Dan remembered how he used to kiss Phil like Phil’s lips were his lifeline. He channeled that feeling into his movements, letting himself feel the moment. He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling Lucy closer to him, and she did the same, curving her arm around his neck. Dan unclasped their hands, wrapping his other arm around her as she reciprocated for him. He picked her up, turned them around, and gently set her back on the stage. As he did so, she suddenly became her usual foot and a half shorter than him, and their lips disconnected.

 _“You kiss by th’book,”_ she said, smirking.

 _“Madam,”_ Dan continued in a high pitched voice, impersonating the older woman who played Juliet’s nurse.  _“Your mother craves a word with you.”_

They both laughed and eased out of the embrace. Lucy held up a hand for a high five, and Dan slapped her palm.

“Much better,” she commended. “Good job, Dan.”

“Eh, that was all you,” he said, giving her a wink.

The sound of someone clearing their throat surprised them both, and their heads snapped forward. Hugh clapped.

“Well done, that was great. You managed to  _improve_ my direction.”

“So humble,” Dan murmured so that Hugh couldn’t hear, and Lucy laughed. Hugh raised his eyebrows, but continued.

“That’s why I picked you two. You feed off of each other, which is exactly what this play needs. Well done. Let’s continue.”

x

Dan and Phil had started a pretty regular texting schedule, which was quite different for them. The only time Dan could remember texting Phil this often was before they even started skyping way back when, as that was their primary form of communication. Dan was pretty shit at texting people back, but he quickly fell out of that habit and into this new one, in which he could look forward to texts from Phil pretty frequently.

So it surprised him when Phil called him in the middle of the day one Wednesday. Wednesdays were the only days off he could count on, now that rehearsals had started to become more intense and Hugh  _insisted_ that he and Lucy have separate rehearsals to build their chemistry. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Hugh shipped them and was using them to act out his personal fanfictions.

Dan raised his eyebrows at his phone when Phil’s ringtone - Panic Station by Muse - started playing. He groped around for the TV remote and paused the show he was watching.

“Hello?”

“Dan! Are you busy?”

“No, just being consumed by Netflix autoplay. What’s the matter?”

“The adoption agency just called and said they would be here to do an assessment in less than two hours. I had completely forgotten about that and the flat is a mess and Nigel’s at work and I’m kind of freaking out a bit,” Phil said hurriedly, and it sounded like he was attempting to move furniture.

“Phil, stop what you’re doing. Take a deep breath, okay?” The scraping noises ceased, and he heard Phil inhale and then exhale. “Good. So you’re nervous about the assessment?”

“Oh my god, yes. Mostly because Nigel isn’t here. I mean, yeah, it’s, you know, easier when he’s here but also because he’s  _not here right now,_ you know?”

“No…? I don’t follow.”

“He’s a music teacher, so he works during the day. I work at night. That’s just how our schedules fall, you know?”

“Right.”

“Well I’m afraid they’ll say we’re unfit parents because we’ll basically have to trade off our child on weekdays. We won’t be able to, like, parent together, most of the time.”

“That doesn’t make you unfit parents. That makes you normal, functional adults. And it also ensures that at least one of you is always home, which is more than most parents can say.”

Phil sighed, and Dan could hear him pacing.

“You said your flat is a mess? I’ll come over and help you clean it if you want.”

Phil huffed out a breath of relief. “That’d be so great, yes. Thank you so much, Dan.”

“Anything for you,” he said, and he had meant for it to come out nonchalantly, but his voice didn’t assume the proper intonation. He cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

“I’ll be there soon, okay? Close the cupboard doors and don’t tear up the carpet or whatever.”

“Okay,” Phil replied, and Dan could have sworn he heard him grumble something about  _do I really leave all the doors open all the time?_ before hanging up.

Dan changed out of pyjamas, grabbed the clothes he borrowed from Phil, and headed to Phil’s flat.

As Dan sat on the train, he went through his daily battle of wanting to move to a different part of London. On one hand, he was quite far from his workplace. But to move closer to it would mean moving further from Phil. And he was content to pretend that he didn’t actually want to move to eliminate the need to make that decision.

Phil practically tackled Dan in greeting, and Dan’s heart sunk between his knees when he saw that Phil was crying.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” he said, pulling Phil back into his embrace and kicking the door closed behind him. “Phil, it’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I just - I got really overwhelmed. If I’m so nervous about a silly assessment then how am I going to handle being a father, you know? And that’s for your  _whole life._ I’m never gonna stop being a dad. This worry I’m feeling, it’s never really going to go away. How do parents do this?”

“Well,” Dan said, rubbing circles into Phil’s back. “Most parents don’t have to go through hell to get a child. They just do it. And I think the fact that you’re willing to go through this process says a lot. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”   

“No,” Phil replied quickly. “I just - I dunno,” he sniffed. Dan squeezed him tighter.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Dan said, and he wasn’t entirely sure who that comment was directed at. “I’m here. Whatever you need me to do, I’m here for you.”

Phil pulled away, smiling broadly at Dan. “Thank you, Dan. That means a lot. Will you help me clean up?”

Dan glanced around the lounge, expecting to see clutter. But it looked like a photo from one of those home improvement magazines - one of the houses that looked like no one actually lived there.

“Oh my god, Phil, how do you live like this?”

“Shut up. I want it to be flawless when the social worker gets here.”

“Well, mission accomplished, looks like you don’t need me after all,” Dan said, slinking across the room and sitting down at the piano bench. Phil laughed.

“Some friend you are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re using me for my piano.”

“Oh, I definitely am.”

“At least you admit it,” Phil said, walking over to Dan and placing his hands on Dan’s shoulders and shaking him. “C’mon, Dan, there’s stuff to do.”

“Sit,” Dan told him, and began to play. “Piano music soothes you. We can take five minutes before you have me turn your spotless flat upside down.”

Phil did as he was instructed, leaning his elbow on the top of the piano, resting his head in his hand, and facing Dan.

“You remembered that?” Phil said quietly, regarding Dan with curious eyes.

“Mhm,” Dan said, his brow creasing in concentration as he tried to remember the next part of the piece. He had composed it himself, but hadn’t practiced it enough.

“How is it you still remember my favorite cocktail and that piano music calms me down and that I leave cupboard doors open?”

“I’m pretty sure I have permanent bruises that prevent me from forgetting that last one.” Dan glanced up at Phil. “I couldn’t forget those things,” he said softly.

Phil frowned and turned away, staring down at Dan’s hands.

“What’s this one called?” he asked after a few moments.

“It doesn’t really have a name. I made it up.”

Phil considered that, listening carefully for several minutes as Dan repeated the whole piece.

“It’s beautiful,” Phil said. “It’s… joyful. I really like it.”

Dan smiled. “I dunno how to feel about it. It’s probably my best, you know, composition, but I dunno.”

“It’s amazing, really. How do you even come up with something like that?” Phil asked, and Dan hoped Phil didn’t see him blush.

“You just have to have the right inspiration,” Dan said, staring into Phil’s eyes more intensely than was entirely appropriate. He blinked rapidly, turning his attention back to the piano. Phil looked away too, his hands poised over the keys.

“Go on,” Dan encouraged, clearing his throat. Phil haphazardly smashed his fingers into the keys, and Dan giggled.

“Not like  _that._ Play the keys that are one apart, not the ones next to each other.”

Phil did as he instructed, and grinned at the result.

“See, much better,” Dan commended. He looked Phil up and down, and bursted out laughing. “How the  _hell_ did I not notice you were wearing a suit?”

“You were blown away by my piano skill,” Phil replied, gleefully working out how to play ‘Chopsticks’ with his newfound knowledge.

“Clearly,” Dan said, giving him another once-over. “Isn’t this interview supposed to be casual? Like, they’re coming to your house for a reason, and I’d imagine it’s to see what you’re like all the time. They’re sending a social worker. A social worker is gonna know if you’re trying too hard.”

Phil frowned. “I guess,” he grumbled. “I just wanted to look smart.”

“You would look smart in a giraffe onesie. And have done. Go get changed,” Dan suggested. “I brought your clothes back, by the way,” he said, nodding towards the bag he had dropped by the front door when Phil ambushed him. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

“That’s okay, yeah,” Phil said, and he stood up and went to his bedroom.   

Dan continued to play while he waited, satisfied that the piano music had calmed Phil down a bit. Phil returned moments later, wearing a much more casual outfit of jeans and a plaid button up shirt.

“Better?” Phil asked, extending his arms and turning around slowly.

“Better than your modeling skills,” Dan said, suppressing a giggle. “Yes, much better.”

“Okay, um, well, if you think everything’s clean enough then there’s just the nursery to attend to. It’s kind of a mess of things we’ve accumulated, so if we got that more organized I’d feel better. Especially since it still has a full size bed in it.”

“Do you know what age the child will be? Like, did you ask for a baby or whatever?” Dan said, following Phil down the hall.

“You can put in preferences, yeah. We’ve asked for a baby, but if we can’t get one then we’d like a young child.”

Dan nodded, and glanced around the room. Half of it seemed ready to house a child, while the other half did not. The carpet was littered with bags and boxes of toys and blankets, cans of yellow paint for the unfinished walls, and painting supplies.

Phil immediately started emptying a box to put the paint and tools in, and asked Dan to sort through the bags and put as many of the blankets in the wardrobe as possible. Dan did as instructed, and they tidied in silence for a while.

Dan sat on the floor, sifting through a large bin bag full of cuddly toys, and he found a stuffed Pooh bear.

“I think this one’s my favorite,” Dan said, holding it up so Phil could see. Phil smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Mine too.”

“Is this…?” Dan muttered, examining the toy. He ran his finger over a patch of stained fur on the back of Pooh’s head. “It is! Wow, I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Dan continued, mostly to himself, as he flipped the bear over to face him.

“I can’t believe you have this,” Dan said, finally addressing Phil. “I thought I had lost it ages ago.”

Phil nodded, but didn’t turn around to face Dan. He was focused on his task of hanging a net in the corner to store cuddly toys.

“You did. It was under my bed. I found it when I was moving out.”

“And you kept it?” Dan asked quietly, running his thumbs over Pooh’s cheeks.

“‘Course I did, Bear.” Phil said, his back to Dan still, and he saw Phil’s shoulders go rigid. Dan’s face flushed at the sound of his old nickname, and he swallowed, willing his face to return to its normal colour before Phil turned round. Thick silence filled the room before Phil spoke again.

“You can have it back, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” Dan said, standing up and placing it on the bed. “I want them to have it.” Phil turned around, done with hanging the net, and smiled at Dan sheepishly.

“Thank you, Dan.”

“Well, you know, if they even want it. It’s old and stained and doesn’t smell very nice.”

Phil chuckled, picking the bear up and squeezing it gently. “I think it’s just fine. It’s well-loved,” Phil declared, placing it back on the bed.

Dan helped Phil put all of the stuffed toys in the net and finish sprucing up the room before there was a loud knock at the door. Phil’s eyes widened, and Dan gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great.”

Phil nodded, sucking in a breath through his nose, but he made no move to answer the door. Dan took him by the hand, giving it a squeeze before leading him to the front door.

“I believe in you,” Dan told him, releasing his hand and awkwardly lurking by the door, unsure if he should just leave or sit down or what.

Phil opened the door, and a smartly dressed woman with a briefcase introduced herself as Amelia. Phil gave her a warm welcome, shaking her hand and showing her inside.

“And this must be your husband,” Amelia said, extending her hand to Dan.

“Err, not quite,” Dan replied, and he felt his cheeks growing hot again.

“This is my best friend, Dan,” Phil said. Dan’s heart leapt into his throat, and he exchanged a look with Phil, who smiled at him. Dan grinned back before returning his attention to Amelia.

“Yeah, pleased to meet you,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it.

“I apologize, that was my mistake. But it’s good that you’re here.” She turned to Phil. “I’m sure you know that it’s part of the process to interview friends and family. Would you like Dan to be one of your references?”

Phil glanced at Dan, who gave him a nod.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Fantastic! Shall we get started, then?”

“Sure,” Phil said, looking at Dan again.

“Uh, I could step out for a bit while you guys do your thing,” Dan offered. Amelia nodded.

“I’ll call you when we’re done, I guess?” Phil said, and they all agreed that was best. Dan saw himself out, giving Phil one last nod before leaving.

Dan walked to the Starbucks he and Phil had met at, and settled in a corner with his coffee, idly watching people walk past the window.

Lucy had been right, he supposed; Phil’s friendship was indeed what was most important to him. He was positively elated at reclaiming his title of Phil’s best friend. But Dan always had to be a goddamn downer and dwell on the fact that in spite of everything, he still craved more. Being mistaken for Phil’s husband gave him a twisted kind of joy that he hated himself for feeling.

_Half-past Never Gonna Happen, remember? The sooner you get over that, the better._

But Phil’s behavior had added a whole new level of difficulty to that task. Keeping Dan’s stuffed bear for seven years, calling him by an old nickname, leaning into his touch, holding eye contact for just a moment too long - surely it wasn’t all that crazy for Dan to read into those things? It was little gestures like that that had given Dan a sliver of hope that Phil had loved him too, way back when.

_Phil doesn’t love you. He never really did, and he never really will._

Dan downed the rest of his coffee too quickly, and it burned as he swallowed. His eyes followed the movements of the people’s feet as they strolled past the shop, until his phone ringing snapped him out of it.

Phil invited him back to his flat, and he sounded pretty happy, so the evaluation must have gone well. Dan set his jaw and stood up, remembering that his job was to help Phil. He couldn’t let all of his own personal bullshit hurt Phil’s chances.

Dan and Phil basically traded places when Dan arrived at Phil’s flat; Phil left and Dan sat on the sofa, across from Amelia.

“So, I’m going to be asking you some questions about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Lester, and then about your perception of his suitability as a parent. And that of Nigel, as well, if you have any input. All of your answers are confidential and I encourage you to be honest and not leave out any pertinent detail. Any questions before we begin?” she asked, pen poised above her clipboard.

“Uh, well, I’d just like to point out that I don’t know Nigel very well, so I won’t have much to say about him.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Let’s get right to it, then: How long have you known Phil?”

“Going on twelve years,” Dan said, and the words still sounded weird to him.

“That’s certainly a long time. How did you meet?”

Dan swallowed, thinking of how to give the most diplomatic version of the truth.

“Well, I really liked his YouTube videos, so we kind of found each other through that.”

She nodded and scribbled away for several moments.

“Have you two always been close?”

“Uh, we - we were really close for a long time. We kind of had a falling out and stopped talking for a while, but we’ve since become pretty close again.”

“That’s good,” she commended. “I hate to possibly rub salt in wounds, but what were the circumstances of your falling out?”

“It was all me. We were living together and I got really upset and left him.”

Amelia looked up from her clipboard, eyebrows raised. “Did you ever have a romantic relationship?” Dan’s eyes widened, so she quickly continued. “I only ask because we are supposed to speak with past partners as well. And your wording makes me curious, for lack of a better term.”

“That’s a bit of a complicated question,” Dan said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “We - um - never quite got there.”

“How long ago was this ‘complication’?”

“About seven years ago. Right before I left, we had, um, started to head in that direction, you know what I mean?”

She nodded, her brow knitted in concentration. Dan had a feeling she didn’t, though, but didn’t particularly want to explain it. Thankfully, she didn’t pry on the subject and moved on.

“Do you think Phil would be a good parent, and why? If you could provide a specific example for your reasoning, that would be excellent.”      

Dan stared down at his clasped hands.

“Absolutely yes,” he said with a nervous giggle. “I’m just trying to articulate it.”

Amelia nodded and waited patiently for him to continue. Dan swallowed.

“Phil would be a fantastic dad. He’s responsible and kind and understanding - and he’s forgiving. He really knows how to care for other people.” He looked up at Amelia.

“One time I got really sick when I was at Uni, and Phil dropped everything to make sure I was okay. He took me to A&E and stayed with me when I had to have surgery. He told my parents and handled everything himself since they couldn’t be there. He trusted me to take care of myself but that didn’t stop him from checking up on me and making me laugh when I felt awful.”

Amelia smiled as she wrote that down.

“Sounds like he was a very good caregiver. Anything else?”

“Um, he lent me one of his hoodies when I felt poorly?” Dan said, laughing a little. He cleared his throat. “Really, Phil is the best. He has this way of knowing exactly what you need, even if you’re not sure of it yourself. I think that’s a really important quality in a parent. Cos sometimes kids feel like they can’t reach out to their parents if they need help, but no child would ever feel that way with Phil.”

“Excellent. There are just a few more questions.”

The interview continued for a while longer, and Dan made sure to paint Phil in the best possible light (granted, that wasn’t a difficult task). Dan called Phil and he returned to his flat. Amelia commended them on their cooperation, and they saw her off politely.

As soon as she was gone, Phil collapsed on the sofa.

“I can  _breathe_  now,” he huffed, rubbing his temples. Dan laughed, taking a seat beside where his head rested.

“I’m sure you did great. I, however, told her all about your secret taste for baby flesh.”

“I told you I got  _over_  that addiction, Dan!” Phil exclaimed.

“You know what they say: once an addict, always an addict.”

“I hate you,” Phil whined, and Dan snorted.

“I hate you back.”

“I hated you first.”

“Impossible. I knew of your existence before you knew of mine. I was like, wow, who’s this weird kid in plaid on the internet? What a pretentious turnip.”

Phil laughed, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. “‘Pretentious turnip’? Of all the things you could have called me, you go with that?”

“Give me about five years and I’ll come up with a halfway decent insult.”

Phil giggled once more and sat up. He slid an arm around Dan’s waist, pulling him into a hug.

“In the meantime I’ll thank you for being so great. Seriously, I dunno what I would have done without you today.”

“‘S nothing,” Dan said, wrapping his arms around Phil and holding him tightly. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I’ll think of a way to repay you somehow.”

“Come and see me in  _Romeo and Juliet?_ ” Dan offered. “Opening night’s next month. I could get you tickets.”

“Absolutely,” Phil said, pulling back without retracting his arms. “But that doesn’t count because I would have done that anyway.”

“It counts.”

“Fine,” Phil conceded, finally disentangling himself from Dan. “But I’m going to make you dinner before I go to work and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Dan laughed. “I suppose competing to do nice things for each other isn’t the worst way to do a friendship.”

“If you’d prefer, we could pick bugs from each other’s fur, like gorillas do,” Phil said, miming plucking something from Dan’s hair.

They both cracked up laughing, and Phil covered his face with his hands.

“I need to stop saying the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t be Phil then. Looks like you need some  _Phil_ -ters.”

They laughed again, and Dan admitted that that was lame and that he should see himself out.

“You’re not actually leaving, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dan and Phil bake cupcakes and Lucy plays the part of Dan’s therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert typical thanks to silverluminosity and apology for how long this has taken.] There will probably be another 2-3 parts. Enjoy <3

Tech Week would always be synonymous with Hell Week, as far as Dan was concerned. He expected it to go a bit more smoothly at one of the most famous theaters in the world, but alas - nothing could dissolve the stress of trying to coordinate lighting and sound and stage direction and  _everything_ at once. Dan had worked backstage at a handful of productions in school, so he understood the ridiculous amounts of hard labour involved. He mentally sent his deepest sympathies to the tech crew, because all he had to do was stand there and look pretty while they sorted out the initial cues for each scene.

But then he’d have to do the same scene a dozen times in a row while Hugh and the stage manager, Isabelle, decided which lighting scheme to go with. It was pretty exhausting for all of the actors - especially when they were expected to give it their all every single time. After all, the lighting was meant to help set the tone, and if the actors didn’t portray it correctly, the process would drag.

It dragged anyway.

By Wednesday, Dan was thanking whatever deity might be listening that Lucy was there to keep him sane. She was ten times more patient and professional than Dan, and managed to make him laugh while they were stuck in the most awkward possible positions, waiting for Hugh to finish barking out orders to the lighting crew.

They spent the better part of that day trying to sort out the scene in which Romeo goes to Juliet’s body, sees it lying in the tomb, monologues his sadness, and kills himself.

Dan had spent ten minutes on his knees beside Lucy, resting his chin on Juliet’s deathbed, while Hugh and Isabelle argued over the amount of darkness that was appropriate for the scene.

Dan exchanged a look with Lucy, and they shook their heads.

“We have to stop meeting like this, people are going to start talking,” she said, running her fingers through his hair as though petting him and laughing.

“By the looks of this, you’re my dominatrix and we’re roleplaying. That’d make for pretty interesting conversation.”

Lucy full-on snorted, and had to cover her face in her hands to recompose herself, while Dan hid his face in his folded arms and giggled.

“Now I’m going to think of that comment when we’re performing. And I’m going to laugh while you’re crying over my lifeless body and the whole show will be ruined.”

“Not my fault if you can’t keep your head in the game,” Dan replied, and she pantomimed elbowing him in the face.

“Is that a High School Musical reference?”

“Obviously.”

“Wow, that takes me back.”

“Back to the start of something new?”

“You’re such a  _dork_ , oh my god.”

"I might be a dork, but you got the reference, so….”

“You’re still a dork.”

“And damn proud of it,” Dan proclaimed, and they grinned at each other.

“You want to go out and get lunch during break? Or, if we’re ever released from Tech Week Purgatory?” Lucy asked nonchalantly.

“Sure, yeah,” Dan agreed. “I need to get out of this building for a while or I’m gonna…”

“Stab yourself?” Lucy offered, holding up a plastic prop knife.

Dan couldn’t help it, and started cracking up.

“There is entirely too much fun going on over there!” Hugh called, and Dan turned around. He couldn’t determine where Hugh was, as the lights had changed and he couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Someone’s got to be having it!” Lucy retorted.

x

What little fun they were able to have was cut off by the fact that they didn’t even break for lunch. A very agitated Hugh announced that everyone should eat whenever they had downtime, or else they’d be there all damn night. Hugh was determined to sort out the lighting for the whole play, and then run through it in its entirety. At the current rate, he might have been right about being there all night.

Isabelle looked absolutely livid, and audible laments from the lighting crew could be heard from above. Dan was going to suggest that ten minutes to recuperate wouldn’t kill anyone - it might actually  _prevent_  a murder from occurring - but Hugh did not look to be in a listening mood.

He sighed, and when he and Lucy were finally declared dead in this run-through, retrieved his packed lunch. No way in hell was he risking leaving to go out for food and not being back in time for the next go round. After the promise of going out somewhere (he had been thinking Chinese), his sandwich was disappointingly bland, as was the lack of company.

Lucy was far more sociable than Dan, so he couldn’t blame her for leaving him alone occasionally, even though they usually ate together. She had invited him to relax with her and Wren, but Dan politely declined. He never  _really_  ate alone, anyway. He could always count on Phil to be there for him via text.

 _Eating alone again, Dan? I don’t know Romeo to be the reclusive type._  Phil’s last message read.

_Everyone’s ripping their hair out bc tech week. Frankly I’m trying to steer clear of other humans for fear of being skinned._

_As long as the murders stay on the stage. Is it that bad?_

_It’s that bad. Hugh and Is can’t agree on anything, and we didn’t get an official break. I’m only allowed to eat bc I’m dead._

_:O are you eating brains?_

_They’re quite tasty with a bit of seasoning._

The conversation quickly devolved into emoji-only communication, in which Dan was a zombie and Phil was running from him.

Dan looked up from his phone as he waited for Phil to illustrate his retaliation from Dan’s attempt to consume him. His eyes glanced around to the few other cast members who had earned a break - all of whom were also dead by the end of the play. Everyone looked exhausted, and some hadn’t even brought food, as they had expected the regularly scheduled break. Dan sighed.

His phone buzzed, and he temporarily ignored Phil’s reply as he tapped out a message:

_(We interrupt this zombie apocalypse for an important question: what can I do to make everyone feel better about hell week? It’s just lifeless in here.)_

_(Hmm…. I know food always cheers people up. Maybe you should bring some.)_

_(PHIL YOU’RE A GENIUS. What should I bring though?)_

In response, Phil sent a variety of food emojis with a question mark at the end. Dan replied with the cake one, and that matter was settled, and they returned to their zombie fight.

Eventually, Phil declared that he had to go to work - although Dan strongly suspected he left because Dan had eaten his brain - and Dan settled for scrolling through tumblr while he waited. Of all the things he had discovered about 2021, the most impressive thing was the battery life of his iPhone  _10._ After ten tries, they were bound to get it right.

His phone held out bravely as he quietly reblogged a few gifsets of his last video, and he didn’t even notice that someone had sat down beside him until he heard them clear their throat.

Dan automatically locked the screen (force of habit, tumblr was too unpredictable), and when he looked up, James was grinning at him. While Dan took all too much pleasure in stabbing him a dozen times that afternoon, as he played Tybalt, he actively avoided James.

“Hey, mate! Haven’t seen you without Miss Prim and Proper for a while.”

Dan gave him a polite but dismissive nod, and turned his attention back to his phone. James glanced at the screen.

“Probably chatting up some girl, right?” he said, nudging Dan with his elbow.

“No,” Dan huffed. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

 _Also, I’m gay as fuck. Well, half, anyway._ Dan thought to himself, and had to repress a snort. James noticed, as he raised his eyebrows. Dan cleared his throat.

"And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop putting Lucy down. She doesn’t deserve it."

James clicked his tongue. “Oh, I see how it is. I always knew you liked a challenge.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Think whatever you want. It’s not like you listen to me anyway.”

James seemed to ignore that statement, thoroughly proving Dan’s point, as he changed to subject.

"Me and the lighting guys are going out Saturday night to celebrate the end of tech week, and you’re invited. I’m curious to see what your excuse for not coming along will be this time."

 _I don’t want to go because you’re a twat._  Dan didn’t say. He hesitated, but James continued.

"You could bring your friend PJ round as well. He’s cool."

"Actually I already had plans with him," Dan said, beyond caring that James would consider that an excuse.

"Then you can both come along."

"Sorry, PJ’s really been looking forward to seeing the film we’ve planned to go to," Dan lied smoothly, although he did have every intention of meeting up with PJ soon.   

"Maybe next time."

"Yeah, right," James muttered with improper inflection, standing up. "See you later, then."

"Looking forward to stabbing you again," Dan said brightly, all too much honesty in his voice.

x

Phil came round a few days later, when Dan finally had an afternoon off from rehearsals, to embark on their baking adventure. Dan triple checked that he bought enough ingredients to make  _four_  batches of cupcakes, and Phil grinned when he peeked at Dan’s laptop screen from over his shoulder.

"A Delia Smith recipe?"

"Naturally," Dan replied, smirking at Phil. "It’s practically a tradition."

"Speaking of tradition…” Phil began, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Do you want to film it? I mean, it’s about time we made a video together."

Dan beamed.

"I think it’s long overdue."

Phil looked up at Dan, and they grinned at each other before Dan went to fetch the necessary equipment.

They had never really discussed making their grand return to YouTube as “Dan and Phil,” but Phil was definitely right. Since Dan announced their rekindled friendship, his viewers had near begged for video evidence. And, well, Dan was all too happy to oblige.

Phil helped him set up the tripod and main camera, and Dan set the smaller one, to be used for close ups, on the counter. Phil hit record.

"Hey, everybody! In the spirit of continuing old traditions, I’ve decided to make a baking video! I’m making cupcakes for everyone in my theater, as we’re all drowning in the fiery abyss that is tech week. I will probably severely regret this about halfway through. But I cannot do this alone, so please give a warm welcome to my  _amazing_  assistant!”

Dan gestured for Phil to enter, and the latter swooped in, nearly crashing into Dan in the process.

"Hey guys!" Phil said once he had regained his footing.

"Well, glad we got the threat of personal injury out of the way at the beginning," Dan said, shaking his head at the camera. He listed the ingredients as Phil took shots of them.

They proceeded to follow the first step, and Phil somehow managed to spill flour all over the counter.

"You’re cleaning this up later," Dan declared, pinching some of it between his fingers and flicking it at Phil. Phil looked down at his t shirt, which was now sprinkled in white powder. He grabbed a fistful of the mess, tossing it at Dan, who sputtered as some of it landed in his mouth.

"Hey! Stop it!"

"That’s what you get for threatening to make me clean."

"Oh, you’re on," Dan scooped more flour into his hand and dusted it over Phil’s hair. Phil frantically mussed with it, sending a cloud of white in Dan’s direction. Dan just laughed.

"You finally look your age, old man," he teased, and Phil immediately retaliated. He smeared his dirty hands over Dan’s chest, streaking white across his black shirt.

"And now you’re finally wearing something besides black."

"Shut up," Dan retorted, and they cracked up laughing.

Dan quickly remembered that they were filming, and returned to the task at hand when he had composed himself.

While the first batch baked, Dan glanced around his near-ruined kitchen, and decided that now was as good a time as ever to try and tidy a bit. He stopped the recording and began wiping down the counter. Phil happily obliged when Dan asked him to wash off some of the dirty dishes.

Dan glanced at the camera again, double checking that it was, in fact, off.

"Hey, Phil?"

"Yeah?" Phil replied, rinsing off a mixing bowl.

"This is really random, but I watched your video about it the other day and I was wondering - what gave you the courage to come out to the internet?"

Phil was quiet for a moment. “Well, I had just asked Nigel to marry me, so I figured it was high time.”

Dan swallowed. “Right, but - what was your thought process? Like, how did you decide how you wanted to go about it?”

Phil fell silent again, his brow creased in concentration.

"Well, I was ready, which was the most important part. But there were a couple of other things I knew I wanted to address."

"Like what?"

"I wanted to make it clear that even though I was marrying a man, I am bisexual. People tend to ignore that far too often."

Dan nodded in agreement.

"I also didn’t want it to be a big deal. I knew there would be people who didn’t care, and people who cared too much, but I tried not to think about it. The backlash wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. Most people were quite lovely."

"That’s good," Dan commended, but didn’t know what else to say.

"Were you thinking about doing the same thing?" Phil asked, glancing at Dan.

"Maybe. Not right now, but eventually, I suppose. When the time feels right."

Phil smiled. “Yup. Timing is everything.”

Dan nodded, averting his gaze. That was all too true.

"Any particular reason you asked? I mean, I’ve noticed you talk about Lucy a lot…" Phil drifted off.

"Uh, no," Dan stammered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. "No, um - she’s great, but it’s not like that. Although I am paid to pretend to be in love with her on a daily basis, so there’s that," Dan said awkwardly, mentally cursing himself.

"Yeah," was all Phil said as he finished up the dishes and turned off the faucet.

Dan felt the need to change the subject, and his brain betrayed him once again when it skipped to this topic.

"So how are things with the adoption going?"

"Fine," Phil replied quickly. "They’ve been doing more assessments and interviews and stuff."

"That’s good," Dan said, and the room quickly fell silent once again.

"Yeah, Nigel’s really excited about it," Phil said, his tone uncharacteristically flat.

"So are you, yeah?" Dan asked cautiously. Phil sighed, and Dan looked up, alarmed. Phil crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter.

"Yeah, ‘course I am. It’s just -" he hesitated.

"I’m afraid that Nigel’s trying to use this to fix our problems, you know? I mean, I don’t imagine we have any more issues than the average couple but -" Phil sighed again.

"But what?" Dan encouraged.

"We haven’t been spending a whole lot of time together cos of our work schedules, you know? It’s been this way for a while but I think it’s starting to catch up to us. And I’m afraid that Nigel thinks that having a child will fix it, when it will probably only make it more stressful."

Dan contemplated that for a moment. “So, what? He thinks that you’ll change your radio show time to the daytime or…?”

"He hasn’t said it outright, but he’s hinted at it before."

"Doesn’t he know that you’re in the prime time? Evenings are the best gigs on the radio."

"He doesn’t understand how the business works. I’ve tried to tell him, but he seems to think that I can just take over The Breakfast Show or something. It’s not that easy."

Dan nodded. “Surely he’d understand if you explained it?”

"I dunno, he can be quite stubborn. He’s also eternally optimistic."

"Sounds familiar," Dan said, smirking at Phil. The corners of Phil’s mouth twitched up, but he didn’t smile.

"I’m just afraid that if I express doubts about the adoption, and hurt our chances in the process, he’ll never forgive me."

Dan frowned.

"Sure he would," he said encouragingly. "He loves you."

"I know," Phil said quietly. "But I’m still afraid that he’ll leave if things get too tough."

A thick silence clouded the room, and Dan remembered that Phil had a very legitimate reason for that fear, and it was currently covered in flour and guilt. He wanted to apologize again, but what was done was done, and he nothing he said would ever fully repair it.

Thankfully, the oven timer went off. That seemed to snap Phil out of his solemn quiet, and Dan gave him a sheepish, apologetic smile. Phil returned it, and suggested they turn the camera back on.

x

“Okay, so we have legitimately about seventy cupcakes now, and another dozen in the oven,” Dan said, panning the small camera around the kitchen. Nearly every flat surface was covered in cupcakes. Phil made a frightened face as Dan zoomed in on him, and then laughed.

“At least it smells amazing in here,” declared Phil as Dan zoomed back out and put the camera down.

“That’s true. I want this scent bottled so I can infuse my flat with it.”

“You could just make more cupcakes.”

Dan gave the main camera a thoroughly unamused look, and Phil laughed behind his hands.

“I’m not gonna bake again for a fucking  _year_  after this,” he said, opening his arms and gesturing around.

“Should we start frosting them?” Phil asked, poking the top of one. “Feels cool enough.”

“Excellent idea, Philip,” Dan said, and when Phil turned around to face him, he was greeted with a smear of icing across his nose. Phil laughed, snatching the container from Dan and dipping his finger in it.

“Joke’s on you,  _Daniel_ , because I’d rather eat this than waste it on you,” he declared, licking the sticky mess off of his finger and going in again.

“Hey!” Dan took the frosting from him. “Really, Phil,  _double dipping?_ Were you raised in a damn  _barn?”_

“No, but I was raised in the North,” he replied in an exaggerated Northern accent. Dan laughed, wiped the icing off of Phil’s nose and popped his finger into his mouth, making an obnoxiously sexual noise as he withdrew it. Phil shoved him.

“Okay really, we should frost these. It’s gonna take like ten years,” Dan said, rinsing his hands off and stepping aside to allow Phil to do the same.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, and he checked on the last batch.

"Okay, uh,” Dan said, staring at the camera. “I really didn’t think about how to make this interesting. Should I just do a frosting montage?”

Phil removed the last tin from the oven and frowned as he thought.

“We could do a Q&A or something for a bit while we do it, then you can just fast-forward through the rest,” Phil suggested.

“You’re a genius,” Dan said, and he took out his phone and tweeted.

_@danisnotonfire me and @amazingphil need things to talk about for a ~mega special video~ send help_

He sent out the tweet, and set up the camera in front on his dining table while he waited for replies. Phil transferred some cupcakes to the table while Dan checked the responses. Dan raised his eyebrows.

“They all think its for phil is not on fire 6,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Did they really think we wouldn’t announce that and make an ask box and all of that? Amateurs.”

Phil grinned at him.

“They don’t understand the process,” he said, setting some utensils and several containers of frosting on the table.

“Did you want to film that sometime?” Phil asked quietly.

“Is the sky blue?” Dan asked dramatically. “Is  _Romeo and Juliet_ a tragedy? Is Leonardo diCaprio prettier than the women who play opposite him?”

“Not currently because it’s raining; yes; and your gay is showing.”

“Says the dude married to a man.”

“Touche.”

_@danisnotonfire no its not pinof6 yet calm down. but rlly send us things its v important_

A few minutes later, replies had flooded in, and Dan restarted the recording.

“So you guys on twitter sent us things to talk about so you don’t just sit here and watch us frost cupcakes forever. Here we go!” Dan said, handing his phone to Phil.

Phil scrolled until he found a tweet he liked.

“Rachel says to make up a story one line at a time.”

“Oooh, I like that one. Okay, let’s do this,” Dan declared, and they both held up their frosting knives and got to work.

“Once upon a time, there was a tiny giraffe that could fit in the palm of your hand,” Phil began.

“His name was George, and he enjoyed punk rock music because he could relate to the angst, what with being a small giraffe and all.”

“One day, his mum caught him applying eyeliner.”

“And he said, ‘Get out, Mum!’”

“‘It’s not a phase!’”

“‘I just want to be like Pete Wentz - he’s an inspiration to tiny beings everywhere!’”

Dan continued, holding back a snort. Phil lost it, though, and had to stop frosting and regain his composure.

“Dan!” he chastised.“You can’t say that.”

“What? You have to admit he’s kind of short.”

“…Oh. You were calling him short.”

“The hell else would I be - ?  _Phil,”_  Dan’s eyes widened as he realized that Phil was, in fact, referring to the picture of Pete Wentz’s penis that had circulated the internet a long time ago. Dan absolutely lost his shit, and his face went bright red.  

“To the generation of kids whose first penis they ever saw was Pete Wentz’s - that was for you,” Dan said, already cutting this bit out of the video in his mind, but appreciating the moment nonetheless.

“God, Phil, I don’t know what’s funnier: you thinking I was referring to his dick or the fact that you think it’s small,” Dan said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I didn’t say that!” Phil said in between wheezes.

“Oh, but you  _did,”_ Dan replied, finally able to take a full breath. He cleared his throat.

“You’re cutting that bit out, right?”

“Unless I suddenly develop a burning desire to be flagged. Shame, though, cos that was _hilarious._ ”

“Oh, well,” Phil said, shrugging and finally returning to the task at hand “It’ll stay between us, then. I’ll be sure to remind you of it in completely silent rooms.”

“Fuck you.”

“Later. We’re filming.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and he gaped at Phil, who had apparently  _just_ realized what he had said, and turned bright red.

“Is any of this footage going to be usable?” Dan grumbled, refusing to acknowledge Phil’s innuendo. Phil cleared his throat and picked up Dan’s phone again to read off a new tweet.

“Apparently not, because the next suggestion is ‘make out on camera’.”

“Well, I admire their dedication to their ships,” Dan said, and he wanted nothing more than to melt into a pile of goo that could not comprehend how awkward the atmosphere had gotten. Said pile of goo would also be incapable of eyefucking Phil, as Dan was very obviously doing, now that the thought had been put in his head.

Dan forced himself back into the present, and began discussing the differences between stage and on-camera acting, as per someone’s request.  _Apparently I’m incapable of acting on camera with this fucker around,_ he didn’t say.  _This is going to be a monster to edit._

x

They somehow managed to finish frosting and packing up the whole lot of cupcakes before Dan had to be at rehearsal again that evening. Phil offered to help him carry the large stack of tin foil pans, but Dan insisted it was fine, as it would probably make him late for his radio show.

So Dan lugged the large canvas bag onto the tube, forced to keep it in his lap as the train was quite crowded. It was cumbersome, but at least it smelled good.

When Dan arrived at rehearsal, and Hugh had just begun saying his piece to the crew about being ‘so sporting’ about the chaos of the week, but it wasn’t over til the fat lady sang.

“And by fat lady, I of course mean me. Stay on task if you’d like to be out of here before midnight. We’re doing two full run-throughs today, and next week they will be in costume, so cherish your precious last moments of performing in skinny jeans. Act one, scene one, let’s go.”

“Wait,” Dan said timidly, and he stood up, holding one of the pans in his hands. Hugh raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“My friend and I made a shitton of cupcakes. I figured we all deserved something sweet after this week.”

At the mention of food, everyone perked up a bit.

"They’re really good, and seriously, all of you should have some, because I’m  _not_  taking all of this back to my flat with me. That is all.” He said, taking his seat again and grabbing one.

“Well done, Howell,” Hugh commended, plucking one from the pan, peeling back the paper, and taking a bite. “Thank you.”

Everyone crowded round and murmured their thanks to him when they retrieved one, and quickly scattered to commence the rehearsal. Lucy plopped down beside him, licking the frosting off of her finger.

“These are  _delicious_. How did you make them?”

“It’s a secret coming to a YouTube channel near you,” he said in an exaggerated narrator-sounding voice.

“You made these with a friend and it’s going up on your channel… let me guess: Phil?”

“Nothing gets past you,” Dan said, picking up another cupcake. He’d officially lost count of how many he’d eaten.

“Can’t wait. Been catching up on your old stuff.”

Dan froze mid-bite.

“…You haven’t seen my first videos, have you?”

“Oh, yes. You were so awkward,” she said, looking him up and down. “Actually, change that to present tense.”

“You’re awful,” Dan said.

“You love me,” Lucy replied.

“I’m paid to.”

“I’ll take it.”

Dan laughed, and they munched in silence for a few moments.

“I watched a lot of your old videos with Phil, too. You two make quite the duo.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You have chemistry. An easy back-and-forth banter. It’s a pleasure to watch.”

Dan looked down at his lap, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“Yeah, it was easier back then,” he said, playing with the paper remains of his snack.

“Did you have trouble with the video?”

“No… but, I dunno. There was all of this -” he hesitated. “I could just be imagining it, but it felt like there was a lot of sexual tension.”

Lucy laughed. “Oh, love, you’re not imagining it. It’s always been there.”

Dan frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re a  _phan_  shipper,” Dan said, the word tasting weird on his tongue.

“I ship Dan with whomever makes him happy.”

“That’s a lot less catchy.”

“It’s true, though,” she said, placing a hand on his wrist. He stopped tearing at the paper and looked up at her.

“How are things with you and Phil?”

“Fine.”

“Fine as in ‘fine’ or fine as in ‘shit’?”

“Somewhere in between, I guess. He, er, confided in me about his marital

problems. He’s having doubts about the adoption.”

Lucy nodded.

“And now you’re confused because on one hand, he’s your friend and you want him to be happy. But on the other…”

Dan sighed.

“Exactly. I feel like an awful human being because I was actually  _happy_  for a second when he told me his marriage wasn’t perfect. The hell kind of friend am I for doing that?”

“You dropped everything to go and help him with something that you don’t, strictly speaking, want to happen. You’re being supportive and you value your loyalty to him over your other feelings. I’d say that makes you a damn good friend.”   

“But how long can I keep this up? Clearly his friendship isn’t enough for me. And I’m always going to feel guilty for leaving him.”

“It’s only been a few months, Dan. Just give it time. It’s gonna be hard for a long time.”

“How hard?” Dan said, smirking.

 _“Really_ hard,” she said, her eyebrows quirking up. “But it looks to me that it’ll always be worth it for you.”

“What makes you say that?”

Lucy smiled, an almost bemused glint in her eyes.

“You know the answer. And so do millions of other people. But all you care about is one of them.”

“I care about - ”

"You know what I mean. I’ve never even  _met_  Phil and I know what you two have is something special. Phil never gave up on you,” she said, giving his wrist a squeeze before releasing it.

“And he loved you back then, didn’t he?”

Dan made a breathy noise somewhere between a scoff and an exhale.

“Not in a way that would have ever worked.”

“Well, I hate to be frank with you, but - you made sure of that, didn’t you?”

Dan swallowed and stared down at the floor, because she was right. He was the one to drive the stake into their heart of their chances, not Phil.

“I’m really sorry, Dan. You just have to make the most of what you have. And what you have isn’t so bad, if you think about it. A best friend who loves you. Other friends, including a very beautiful castmate.” Lucy nudged him with her elbow before continuing.

“A supportive family and thousands of viewers and, soon, audience members who love what you create. Your situation sucks, but the only thing dragging you down more than necessary is you.”  

Dan looked up, and Lucy gave him a sad but genuine smile. The corners of Dan’s mouth turned up.

“You’re right, of course. I just - I tend to overthink things. That’s what got me in this mess in the first place.”

“Well, good news for you is that you need to stop thinking about your personal problems, because I fear for our lives if we don’t get on stage right now,” she said, pointing to a very irritated-looking Hugh, who appeared to be scanning the audience for them.

They exchanged a terrified look and half-jogged to the stage.

“Hey, Lucy?” he said, a little breathily.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, sprinting up the steps.

“You’re on, Romeo.” Lucy gave him a little push forward. Dan gave her a salute before making his entrance.  

They had rehearsed so much that his movements and lines were practically second-nature, so he easily fell into character opposite Mark, who played Benvolio.

 _“Good morrow, cousin,”_  Mark greeted him, with a quick raise of his eyebrows that said ‘good thing you’re here’.

 _“Is the day so young?”_ Dan replied, holding back an all too genuine sigh, because they were only at the beginning of the first run of the play, and he was already pretty drained.

_“But new struck nine.”_

_"Ay me! Sad hours seem to long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?”_

_“It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?”_

_“Not having that which, having, makes them short.”_

_“In love?”_

_“Out.”_

_“Of love?”_

_“Out of her favor, where I am in love,”_ Dan replied, willing himself to really feel this scene instead of just doing it on auto-pilot. If there were anything he could relate to in this play, it was this.

_“Alas, that love, so gentle in his view_

_Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!”_

_“Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,_

_Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!”_

Dan began his monologue, and admitted that Romeo was right in this respect. Love was supposed to be blind, but could still be so controlling.

_“Where shall we dine - O me! What fray was here?_

_Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all._

_Here’s much to do with hate but more with love._

_Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,_

_O anything of nothing first created!_

_O heavy lightness, serious vanity,_

_Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!_

_Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,_

_Still waking sleep, that is not what it is!_

_This love feel I, that feel no love in this._

_Dost thou not laugh?”_

_“No, coz, I rather weep.”_

_“Good heart, at what?”_

_“At thy good heart’s oppression.”_

Dan sighed; he might as well have been having this conversation with Lucy. He moved downstage, running his fingers through his hair.

_“Why, such is love’s transgression._

_Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,_

_Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed_

_With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown_

_Doth add more grief to too much of mine own._

_Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;_

_Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;_

_Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears._

_What is it else? A madness most discreet,_

_A choking gall, and a preserving sweet._

_Farewell, my coz.”_

Dan made a move to leave, but Mark extended his arm and walked towards him.

_“Soft! I will go along._

_And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.”_

_“Tut, I have lost myself. I am not here._

_This is not Romeo. He’s some other where,”_ Dan replied, withdrawing once more. He trudged away, hanging his head, as the scene continued. Benvolio asked Romeo who it was that he loved, and Romeo described Rosaline as beautiful but disappointingly celibate. _Yeah, that’s a healthy way to think of the person you ‘love’,_ Dan thought sarcastically.

 _“Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her,”_ Benvolio instructed Romeo.

_“O, teach me how I should forget to think!”_

They exited the stage, and Dan couldn’t help but wish he could be taught that. Romeo wasn’t the sharpest plastic knife in the prop arsenal, but he made several good points.

While Romeo experienced little more than profound infatuation (in Dan’s opinion), the anguish it caused him was all too real in Dan’s mind. The person he wanted didn’t want him, and he didn’t know how to cope. Of course, he then proceeded to marry and kill himself over the next girl he met, so his strategy was quite ineffective.

Perhaps Benvolio’s advice would have been more practical -  _forget to think of him_.  _At least in that way,_ Dan told himself.

If nothing else, throwing himself into his character couldn’t be the worse way to find distraction. If only the things Lucy had noticed about him and Phil would leave his mind. Surely he couldn’t be making all of it up: the sexual tension, the ease with which they could interact even with all of the permanently unresolved shit between them, their loyalty to each other, their willingness to be in each others’ lives even though it hurt - it couldn’t all be for naught.     

But Dan had no time to ponder that further, as it was his cue once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil shows his support for Dan on opening night of Romeo and Juliet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I’m a bit sorry. Also Sam and Mike are the best.

Dan would never be used to living alone. It was far too quiet for his comfort, since something as stupid as the person above him flushing their toilet startled him. After a while, he formed the incredibly dumb habit of playing Phil’s videos for ‘background noise’, but even he didn’t believe his own bullshit. He liked hearing Phil’s voice in all its forms, whether he was vlogging animatedly or murmuring just loud enough for Dan to hear.

Eventually Dan gave up the ruse of ‘background noise’ and just watched Phil’s videos every morning in earnest while he ate breakfast, and sometimes on the train to the theater. He couldn’t resist doing some quick math to estimate how long it would take him to catch up on seven years’ worth of Phil’s videos if he watched for twenty minutes a day: seven weeks. Damn.

Dan hadn’t noticed anything drastically different in Phil’s videos - until Phil gave a tour of the flat he now shared with Nigel. In the office he now vlogged in, Phil had set up several strings of lights and a lamp he had bought in Florida. Phil turned off the lights and panned the camera around the room, and the unmistakable glow of a plastic star on the wall caught Dan’s eye. He paused the video, and sure enough, it could only be that.

When he continued his daily marathon, Dan noticed the star on the wall behind Phil. It nearly blended in, so one might not catch it if they weren’t particularly observant, but Dan had no problem spotting it in every video now that he was looking. He couldn’t resist going back to previous videos, even the few that Phil had filmed in their old flat, and sure enough, it was present in the background every time. Every time following Dan leaving.

Lion made his regular appearance, of course, but that was a tradition. Phil was very careful and deliberate when it came to his work, so it couldn’t be a simple coincidence. Phil had made the decision to put that star in every damn video, and Dan wanted to know why.

But Dan forgot to ask, as Phil’s presence in his life had lessened a bit. He was working more closely with the BBC for some special thing that Dan couldn’t remember the name of, and Dan was spending all of his time rehearsing for opening night, which was only three days away. And when Dan finally had some free time, Phil was busy with his radio show, so he rang PJ. (He didn’t  _technically_  lie to James about wanting to see a film with PJ - he just didn’t specify when.)

After the film, Dan and PJ went back to Dan’s flat for several intense rounds of Mario Kart (which, much to Dan’s delight, was still relevant).

“Peej, if you hit me with one more red shell, our friendship is over.”

“Funny how we’ve been friends for nearly twelve years - cos that’s what place you’ll be in when I’m through with you!” PJ declared, all too much delight in his voice as he did what Dan most feared and sped past him.

“JESUS ON A BICYCLE. YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT.”

“Maybe if you  _were_  Jesus on a bicycle, you would have won,” PJ replied, letting out a victorious cackle as he passed the finish line.

“I hate you  _so much_ ,” Dan grumbled back, and he managed fifth place. He groaned dramatically, slumping onto the arm of the sofa in defeat.

“Someone’s a sore loser.”

“I’m not used to it. Phil’s terrible.”

“Is he really?”

“Yeah. But he still kicks my arse at Super Smash Brothers, so it evens out I guess,” Dan said, sitting up and smiling a bit to himself. He may or may not have won a day-long multi-game tournament against Phil, and he may or may not have still been smug about it.

“What are you smiling at?” PJ teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“Can’t I just smile? Isn’t happiness so fleeting that we have to grab it while we can?”

PJ raised an eyebrow and stared at him. Dan did not relent, so PJ relaxed.

“Well, I’ve notice that you’ve been a lot happier lately. I was starting to worry about you.”

“And then what?”

“And then you saw Phil again,” PJ said nonchalantly. Dan straightened up a bit.

“What d’you mean?”

“Phil makes you happy, Dan. That’s not a secret to anyone. I’m glad you two patched things up. S’been better for both of you.”

“You think?”

PJ laughed, shaking his head a little.

“I  _know_. Phil missed you quite a bit. Being your go-between was no fun for me.”

Dan hesitated.

“It wasn’t your responsibility, but… how come you never just shoved us in the same room until we made up?”

“Believe me, I wanted to. But you flinched like a cat sprayed with water if I even mentioned Phil.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I figured whatever happened between you had to be sorted out by you, on your own terms.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan said quietly. “So you never got the full story, then?”

“Didn’t really feel right to ask.” PJ shrugged.

“Yeah. Hardly matters now.”

PJ nodded, and it was silent for a few moments.

“Hey, Peej? You think about existential shit pretty often, don’t you?”

“There’s a special space in my brain for it, in fact.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth quirked up, and he steeled himself to ask something that had been hanging in the back of his mind for far too long.

“Do you think the universe cares about what happens to us? I mean - does anything we do have any  _actual_ consequences in the grand scheme of things?”

PJ considered that, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“Maybe not in the ‘grand scheme of things’, as you put it. But our actions as

sentient beings certainly do for us.”

“Yeah, but if that’s the case, then what’s the point?”

PJ looked at Dan.

“Someone’s slipped into an existential crisis again.”

“Assume the original one never went away.”

PJ nodded.

“Well for me, these questions are less of a crisis and more of a call to arms.”

“What d’you mean?” Dan asked.

“That  _because_  the universe is so large and seemingly empty, it’s our job as its inhabitants to permeate with as much creativity and good things as possible,” PJ explained. “To see the universe as a void is to have reason to fill it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dan said. “All you do is create all day long.”

“So do you. As an actor, you help tell stories too. You tell your own stories in your videos. I think you deserve more credit than you give yourself, Dan.”

Dan smiled a little.

“Thanks, Peej. But sometimes it feels like its all for naught. Like there’s too many external forces that could fuck everything up. Sometimes the risk is a bit intimidating.”

“What risks?”

Dan let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

“Everything. Rejection, failure, criticism. Any number of terrible things could

happen if you put yourself out there enough.”

Dan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. (Hannah, the costume designer, insisted Dan keep it curly because it made him look younger. He wondered how much time would pass before he caved and straightened it.)

“Life has risks, Dan,” PJ said. “One of those beautifully unavoidable facts. If you never take any risks, you’ll never learn or grow or do anything worthwhile.”

“I could be okay with that.”

PJ smirked.

“But is that the goal? Absolutely complacency? That’s hardly what the Dan I know believes.”

“Sometimes it’s all you’ve got.”

PJ turned towards Dan.

“Talk to me. What’s up?”

Dan sighed.

“How long of a story do you have time for?”

“You know how much I love stories. Spin me a tale as elaborate as you choose.”

x

PJ remained quite silent while Dan explained, possibly for the first time, the depth of his history with Phil, all the way through to the present. When he finished, he glanced at PJ, expecting some kind of judgment or an ‘oh well, looks like you’re screwed’. But the thing about PJ was that he was hard to predict.

“I can see why you’re wary of risk-taking. But to me, the moral of that story is that you and Phil need to take them more often.”     

Dan gaped at him.

“Well, what started all of this was your hesitance to tell Phil what you really wanted, right?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“So maybe what you need to now do is what you needed to do back then - take a leap of faith.”

“You’re suggesting I tell a married man that I’ve been in love with him all along and make him feel so guilty about it that he stays as far from me as possible?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds awfully stupid,” PJ said, laughing a little. “So perhaps not that. You could start smaller. You said you were thinking about coming out to the internet - maybe that?”

“What good would that do?”

“Might do you some good to see all the support you’ll get. Sounds to me that you’re seeking acceptance, in a way. If the internet accepts you, maybe that’ll help you accept yourself.”

“I’ve essentially been inviting all of my friends to psychoanalyze me lately. I should really cut that out,” Dan said, shaking his head, but a smile had creeped its way onto his face.

“I’ll think about it,” Dan concluded. He thanked PJ profusely for being such a good friend to him all along, and PJ promised to see  _Romeo & Juliet _as soon as he could.

“No problem, yeah. Let me know when and I’ll get you tickets.”

“Thanks, Dan. Sorry I can’t come opening night.”

“That’s okay. Phil’s going to be my posse of one. Clearly everyone in the cast will be jealous of how Crazy Mad-Boss Theatre-Famous I am now.”

They both laughed, and Dan saw PJ out.

His flat grew silent again, and he felt the stupidly irrational need to fill it. It was late and he had to be up early the following morning. But goddammit if it if PJ wasn’t right and wasn’t bloody well time that he did this anyway? He sat down in front of his camera, and the words came pouring out, as the script for a video titled “I’m bisexual” had been writing itself in his head for far too long.

“Hey internet! Or, the small portion of the internet that is actually interested in my side channel. Anyway, you’ve probably guessed what I’m going to say based on the title, but it wouldn’t be a video of mine if I didn’t take the entire duration to contemplate deep philosophical questions before getting to the point.”

Dan sighed and sat up a little taller, willing himself to get this right on the first try. He felt like editing this video in any way would be disingenuous.

“I know I’ve kind of avoided the topic of my sexuality for a long time. But I know how important it can be for someone who’s struggling to accept themselves to see someone they admire have the courage to do it. And if I can do that for just  _one_  of you, then this will all be worth it to me.”

Dan swallowed, staring directly into the lense as he continued.

“It took forever for me to accept this fact about myself, and even when I had accepted it, and my friends and family had done so to the best of their ability, I still felt - lost. Like I didn’t know what to do with that information now that I had come to know it. Am I obligated to come out to all of you? Do I champion the cause and attend pride parades? Do I keep my big mouth shut and act straight, and is that fundamentally dishonest?

“And then I had a realization: your sexuality is part of your identity. It’s part of who you are as a person. It’s not nearly as important as people might think, but it’s, you know, a thing. And just like everything else that defines you,  _you_  get to decide what it means and what you’re going to do about it. So, all waffling aside, what I’m trying to say is this: if you’re having any kind of identity crisis like I did, I want you to know that you’ll get to a place where you accept and embrace all parts of you, and you’ll realize that loving yourself as-is is the bravest thing you can do. You do whatever you feel comfortable with, because the best thing about your identity is that  _you_ get to decide what it is and how much of it you express to others. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Dan had rehearsed the next bit a number of times in a variety of places: animatedly practising filming this exact video in front of the mirror, mentally to himself on trains, standing in the hallway outside his parents’ bedroom:

“Having said all of that, I want you guys to know that I’m bisexual. I am attracted to both girls and boys,” he said, shrugging a little. “There wasn’t a point at which the sky opened up and a rainbow shone down on me and said ‘Dan, you’re a little bit gay’, or whatever. For as long as I’ve known I like girls, I’ve liked boys too. It actually  _is_ that simple, believe it or not. At least it was for me.”

“But if you’re interested in a more sophisticated definition of what bisexuality is, and, possibly more importantly, what it  _isn’t_ , then I’ve put some links in the description that you can check out.”

“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. Stay swaggy, and remember that your identity is valid, and no one has any right to make you feel like shit for it. Bye, guys!”

Dan put more links in the description than he had originally planned, and uploaded the video to danisnotinteresting before he lost his nerve.

x

When Dan woke up the next morning, he had a flood of texts and tweets from his YouTube friends (even the ones he hadn’t gotten into contact with recently), throwing their support to him and saying how excellent his message was. The one that meant the most to him, though, was from Phil:

_Proud of you <3_

The comments section of the video was a lot less cringey than Dan had expected, and, as Phil predicted, most people were quite lovely about it. A few too many for Dan’s taste were along the lines of “I fucking knew it” or “he admitted this in 2009 this isn’t news” or a few choice homophobic or biphobic slurs, but overall it could have been a lot worse.

What truly lifted the weight from Dan’s back were the ones that  _thanked_ him for having the courage to do that. So many kids, it seemed, were hurting for bisexual role models. And, for once, Dan was confident in his ability to be a decent one.

x

He spent more time at the theater than not for the next several days, trying to remember how properly execute a quickchange and getting more and more pissed at the state of his hair. He ran into a few subscribers one morning, and naturally they asked for pictures. Of course he agreed, but he was already counting the number of edits of the photos that would no doubt wind up on tumblr. Then he remembered he couldn’t count that high.

Eventually the cast and crew were able to execute a virtually flawless runthrough,  and Hugh could not have been more thrilled. He was so elated, in fact, that he let everyone go home half an hour early. Dan was thankful for the extra sleep time.

The night before the show, Hugh gave a nearly thirty-minute pep talk that rivaled that of every sports-related film Dan had ever seen. Dan was very tempted to shout “WHAT TEAM?!” but the potential humiliation of no one responding kept him quiet. And Lucy would call him a dork again.

Hugh concluded his speech by declaring that he was not a fan of same-day rehearsals on opening night.

“It just stresses everyone out, I’ve learned. Give yourselves the morning off and get here at noon. I’ll be providing lunch. Perhaps Howell would like to provide dessert…?”

“No. I’m never baking that many cupcakes ever again.”

“Was worth a shot.”

Dan barely slept that night, because his brain insisted on running through the entire damn play not once, but  _twice_ , before it would shut the fuck up. He allowed himself to sleep in for a while, though, so chances of forgetting his lines due to sleep deprivation were low. He hoped. Phil had taken the night off from his radio show just to come see Dan, so he’d be damned if he didn’t put on the best performance of his life.

While Dan walked to the train station, he passed a flower shop, and couldn’t resist stopping to take a whiff.

“Those sunflowers are very fresh,” the shopkeeper told him. “Would make a lovely gift for a special someone,” she said, giving him a wink.

He caved and bought some for Lucy. Truthfully they reminded him more of Phil than anyone else, but he definitely wanted to get Lucy something, so the flowers would do just fine.

“Happy show day!” Lucy greeted him.

“Same to you. For you, my lovely Juliet,” he said, offering her the bouquet.

She grinned at him.

“Thank you, Dan. I shall add them to my collection of gifts from my admirers. Oh wait,” she teased.

“Don’t joke, that shit gets overwhelming. I reopened my PO Box and I got like fifty letters and drawings in a week. And got presents, too, even though I begged people not to send them.”

“Wow, your life as an internet superstar is  _so hard._ ”

“It’s not as glamorous as you might think. I feel awful that people put so much time and effort and money into sending me things when I can’t acknowledge them properly. But I am going to paper my office wall with everything I get.”

“I’m sure everyone knows how much you appreciate it,” she said, toying with one of the petals of the flower.

“Saw your baking video with Phil, by the way. It was  _adorable_.”

Dan felt his cheeks grow hot, and he grumbled something about ‘there is nothing adorable about grown men making fools of themselves on the internet’ and then he realized that was a lie, so he just gave up. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks. You should see the outtakes. Penis jokes and sexual tension galore.”

“The hell are you holding out for? I wanna see that!”

“Get in line,” Dan chuckled. “I found my old hard drive the other day - some of the shit on that thing is absolutely damning. I can only imagine what Phil must have lying around on various hard drives and USB sticks.”

“I think I have an idea,” Lucy winked at him. “You both ‘make videos on the internet’ for extra money. I see how it is.”

“Are you implying we do porn? Because I could point you to some pretty convincing lookalikes if that’s what you’re into.”

“Oh my god,  _really?_ ”

“You know how they say there are seven people in the world who look like you? Apparently all of mine are gay twink pornstars. It’s fantastic.”

Lucy cracked up, covering her face with the flowers. Dan joined her, and mentioned offhandedly that he came out to the internet. Lucy beamed at him and promised to watch the video later.

Soon, they heard Hugh telling everyone that it was time to eat. Dan just hoped he wouldn’t give another pep talk.

 _Fucking theatre people and their monologues_ , Dan thought as his fears were realized: Hugh gave another short speech, followed by Isabelle and Hannah and a few other people who toasted to a successful opening night. They all clinked glasses of champagne, and Dan glanced round the room.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of warm affection for almost everyone in the room. He really had enjoyed the experience up until that point, and was looking forward to being Romeo for as long as they’d have him.

x

After a few hours of disappointingly sober merriment, it was less than an hour until showtime. Dan paced around the dressing room he shared with several other members of the Montague family, ignoring their concerned glances as he muttered his lines to himself over and over. He could broadcast himself to millions of people on the internet, but he hadn’t performed in front of a live crowd in a long time. Stage fright was a heartless bitch.

His pacing session was interrupted by a text from Phil saying that he was there. Dan slipped out of the dressing room and into the hallway, done up in full costume. He sighed, and figured he had best stay inside. He called Phil, gave him directions to the back of the theatre, and after several minutes, Phil found him.

Phil was dressed to the nines in a navy blue suit. He flicked his hair out of his eyes as he approached Dan, a broad grin on his face.

“Nice sleeves,” Phil said, poking at the puffy fabric.

“Nice hair,” Dan replied, brushing it away from Phil’s forehead with his fingers. “When’s the last time you had a haircut?”

“I dunno,  _Mum_. When’s the last time you straightened yours?” Phil reached up towards Dan’s hair, and Dan swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch it. Hannah will have my head on a platter. And then she will fix it herself and mount it on her wall.”

“Sorry,” Phil muttered, and they both looked up when one of the dressing room doors opened and Lucy emerged.

 _It would only be Lucy_ , Dan thought as she strode towards them.

“You must be Phil!” she said brightly, opening her arms for a hug.

“And you must be Lucy,” he said, squeezing her into a tight embrace.

“And I’m Dan,” Dan said quietly. Lucy stuck her tongue out at him as she released Phil.

“Well forgive me if I feel like I already know you,” Lucy said to Phil. “Dan doesn’t shut up about you.”

Dan glared at her, but she only smiled when Phil laughed.

“He’s told me a lot about you too,” Phil replied.

“All terrible, terrible things,” Dan said.

“I’d expect nothing less. Anyway, I just wanted to say that Dan introduced me to your work, on YouTube and with the BBC, and you are just  _so_ talented.”

Dan noticed Phil’s cheeks tint pink.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “I can’t wait to see how talented you are. Among those terrible, terrible things Dan told me, he mentioned that you’re an amazing actress. I’ve come prepared,” he said, pulling a packet of tissues from his pocket.

“Oh, you flatter me,” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes.

“Do you two want to be left alone?” Dan said, and he didn’t mean for it to come out  _quite_  so forcefully, but he was starting to get jittery again and being left out of the conversation wasn’t helping.

Lucy glanced at him, and gave an almost imperceptible nod, indicating that she understood.

“I should be off anyway. Was lovely to meet you,” she said to Phil, and gave a small wave before turning around and going back to her dressing room.

“You as well,” Phil said, and returned his attention to Dan.

“You okay?”

“A bit nervous, is all,” Dan mumbled. Phil smiled.

“You’re gonna be fantastic, I know it. I’m so proud of you, Dan.”

Without warning, Phil slipped his arms round Dan’s waist and pulled him into a hug. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders and allowed himself to savor the moment and remember a time when he had to stand ever so slightly on his tiptoes to do this exact thing. He hooked his chin over Phil’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Phil. Never would have gotten to this point without you.”

“We can agree to disagree,” Phil said, pulling back and smirking at Dan.

They heard another door open, and sprung apart immediately. Mark had poked his head out of their dressing room. Dan gave Mark a quick smile, and Mark glanced from him to Phil and back, evidently confused by how guilty both of them must have looked.

“Twenty minutes to curtain, mate,” he informed Dan, and Dan nodded.

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“I should go and take my seat,” Phil said.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Break a leg, Dan,” Phil said, smiling at Dan and turning round to leave. He hadn’t gotten a few steps before he added, “Errr, which way is it again?”

Dan rolled his eyes, and grabbed Phil by the wrist and began to lead him down the hallway.

“So you’re gonna turn right and go down the next hallway to the exit -” Dan was cut off by Phil slipping his hand into Dan’s, still walking two steps behind him. Dan turned his head to look at Phil, who looked vaguely guilty but had conviction written all over his face. Dan swallowed, and didn’t pull away.

“To the exit, and then you turn left and go all the way to the front of the theater,” he said, staring straight ahead. Having completed his instructions, there was no need for him to be showing Phil the way anymore, nor was there a particular need for him to be leading by a few steps. But having Phil’s hand in his while looking at him and strolling casually down the hall was not something that was allowed to happen. Dan was reminded of that by the weight of Phil’s ring in his own hand.

“Okay,” Phil said, but he didn’t remove his hand from Dan’s either, until they reached the exit. After one final encouragement, Phil left, and Dan half-jogged to back to the dressing room. He sat down in front of the mirror, tempted to sit on his hands so that he wouldn’t adjust his hair. Mark came up behind him.

“Was I interrupting something back there, mate?” he said, clapping his hands onto Dan’s shoulders and making eye contact with Dan’s reflection.

“No,” Dan replied, and couldn’t think of anything else that didn’t sound defensive. He dropped his gaze.

“Okay then,” Mark replied, clearly unconvinced. “Who was that, anyway?”

“My friend Phil.”

“Oh, was  _that_  Phil? Yeah, you’ve mentioned him.”

“Yeah.”

“Good of him to come and see the show, I guess,” Mark said, giving Dan’s shoulder a playful squeeze before releasing them.

“We best be heading out, I think the curtain’s gone up.”

“Okay,” Dan said, standing up and steeling himself.

“Don’t be nervous, we’re gonna  _kill_ it,” Mark said cheerily, leading the way to the backstage area.

“That’s the point when it comes to this particular play, I guess,” Dan said, and Mark laughed.

They watched the beginning of the play from behind the curtains, and in no time at all, it was Dan’s cue.

He stepped onto the stage, unable to resist a glance at the audience. The lights were so bright and the house so dark that it was near impossible to make out individual faces.

 _Just pretend it’s a camera lens. A very large camera lens,_ he told himself, and then he was Romeo once again.

x

The backstage chaos of a show night could not be over-exaggerated. No matter how many times the cast rehearsed at a variety of speeds, the real deal always seemed to go ten times quicker.

Lucy shined as Juliet, of course, and it came naturally to Dan to play opposite her, which made the whole affair much more enjoyable. By the end of the first act, Dan was buzzing with adrenaline and the pleasure of a job well done. Dan was his own harshest critic, but he could honestly say he was proud of his performance thus far.

Act II, scene II rolled around, and Dan felt the most pressure to do that particular scene properly. It was the ‘balcony scene’ - undoubtedly the most iconic one in the play and possibly one of the most misunderstood in all of literature.

Dan always thought it was dumb that most people didn’t understand that when Juliet says ‘ _wherefore art thou Romeo?_ she’s not asking where he is, but  _why_  he is. Why is he Romeo - a Montague, her enemy by way of a pointless feud of unknown origin? He could be anyone else, without those identifiers, and he’d still be the same man Juliet claims to love. But, he had to be a Montague, forbidden and untouchable. And it’s both Romeo’s and Juliet’s refusal to acknowledge that that leaves them dead. They thought they could circumvent their fate by lying to themselves and others, but the audience knows what will become of them.

And it was when Dan stepped onto the stage to perform the monologue that, for the first time, his heart truly ached for how doomed they were from the start.

x

The rest of the show went swimmingly - relatively so, anyway. It was absolute mayhem backstage, but none of that showed in the performance, as far as Dan could tell.

Dan actually managed to cry during his final scene. He didn’t have the brainpower to act, remember his lines,  _and_  overthink that fact, so he let it slide for the time being as he collapsed to his fictional death.

He didn’t allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief though, since he was supposed to be dead. When the scene was over and the lights went out, Lucy grabbed him by the wrist and near dragged him off the stage and into a hug.

“You were fantastic! Nearly had me in tears as well,” Lucy whispered.

“Naturally you were incredible,” he said, grinning at her.

They waited behind the curtains for the play to end and for bows to start. Lucy went to the opposite side of the wings. When it was their cue, Lucy and Dan met in the middle of the stage, clasped hands, and were met with thunderous applause as they bowed. Dan thought his cheeks might burst from smiling too hard when he saw that, when the whole cast bowed together, the audience gave them a standing ovation.

He gave and received so many congratulatory pats on the back that he thought he might bruise, but it was entirely worth it. The atmosphere after the show was positively euphoric, as everyone was proud of how it had turned out. After nearly twenty minutes of mania, Dan finally made his way back to his dressing room.

 _Should I come find you the same way I did before?_ Phil had texted him.

 _Sure, yeah_ , Dan said, his stomach giving a nervous twist because Phil hadn’t said anything about his performance. He gave his head a little shake to clear it as he marched to the exit where Phil would come in, politely dodging his excited coworkers the whole way there.

“Dan!” Phil called to him, and Dan laughed, because he had apparently passed right by where Phil had been caught in a throng of chatting Capulets.

“Hey,” Dan said, backpedaling and leaning against the wall next to Phil.

“Hey,” Phil replied, grinning at him.

“So… did you enjoy it?”

Phil laughed, as if that were the most adorable thing Dan could have said.

“Of course I did! It was  _brilliant_. You were amazing.”

“Nope, you’re confused. That’s you.”

Phil gave Dan a playful shove.

“Pretty sure that’s you, if these have anything to show for it,” Phil said, pulling several apparently used tissues from his jacket pocket.

“You didn’t cry, did you?” Dan asked.

Phil just smiled, shoving the tissues back into his pocket.

“My best friend just gave the most incredible performance of his life, as one of the most well known characters in all of literature, on one of the world’s most famous stages, in which he _died._ No, I most certainly did not cry - because I’m made of stone.”

“Shut up,” Dan said, a blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“I’m really proud of you, Dan.”

“That’s only like the third time you’ve said that today.”

“I’ll stop saying it when it stops being true.”

“You’re fucking unbearable, you know that?”

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Lucy approached them. Phil praised Lucy and she graciously accepted, but kept steering the focus back to Dan. Dan couldn’t even bring himself to be frustrated by her efforts; he was way too happy.

“Anyway,” Lucy said, turning to Dan. “A bunch of us are going out to celebrate, and you and Phil are welcome to join.”

Dan glanced at Phil, who smiled a little, but didn’t look altogether thrilled at the idea. He couldn’t blame Phil, really - the only people he would know would be Lucy and Dan. Also, _theatre people drinking._

“I think we’ll pass, thanks,” Dan told her. “We were just gonna head back to my apartment.”

Dan didn’t mean for that to come out  _quite_  so suggestive, but Lucy wasn’t one to let it slide.

“Right, okay. Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Have fun, boys,” she said, shooting Dan a quick wink as she strode away. Dan rolled his eyes, and grabbed Phil’s right hand in his left. He led the way to his dressing room, and Phil didn’t pull away.

x

Dan and Phil spent the majority of the tube journey to Dan’s flat in comfortable silence. When most of the train had emptied, Dan flopped his head on Phil’s shoulder dramatically.

“Are you tired?” Phil murmured.

“Physically, yes. Mentally, I’m like a puppy on crack.”’

“Nice metaphor.”

“That was a simile, you uncultured swine.”

“I just watched a play written by Shakespeare,” Phil said, shifting so he could slide his arm round Dan’s shoulder. “I’d say I get like, ten culture points for that.”

“Fine,” Dan said, laughing and settling into Phil’s embrace. It crossed his mind briefly that one of the few people on the train might recognize them and catch them being so touchy-feely, but opening night had thoroughly exhausted his supply of fucks to give.

“How come you didn’t want to go out with your friends?” Phil asked, rubbing circles into Dan’s shoulder with his thumb.

“Well, I figured it might not have been all that fun for you.”

“I could have gone home.”

Dan stared at Phil, as if that was the dumbest thing he had heard all day.

“Why on earth would I have wanted that?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, I’ve spent way more time with them in the past few months than is probably healthy. I didn’t really care much about being with them right now - I just want to be with you,” Dan said, the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them. He glanced up at Phil, and his heart nearly leapt from his chest when he saw that Phil was smiling down at him. Phil’s face was so damn  _close_  and Dan was thrown back to the first time he kissed Phil - it was this exact image that had prompted him to do it.

When he had looked up into Phil’s eyes that night on the Manchester Eye, he saw what he had always wanted to see: love and affection to match what he felt for Phil. The shy smile that curved Phil’s lips gave Dan the courage to kiss him. Little had he known that that kiss had dropped a stone into water and created a neverending ripple that followed them both to that day.

Dan blinked rapidly, dragging himself back to the present.

“Me too,” Phil said, almost inaudibly, his hand dropping to Dan’s waist. Dan just faced forward, leaning his head back against Phil’s shoulder again. That was what he should have done all that time ago - but he didn’t. And he barely had the willpower to do it now.

“We can order a pizza or something when we get back,” Dan said quietly, anxious to change the subject.

“Sounds good,” said Phil, and then they were silent again. Silence meant thinking, and Dan didn’t want to do that when Phil was touching him from hip to foot with his arm slung round his waist and he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it.

He wasn’t allowed to remember how that was the first of a million times he had kissed Phil like he was drowning and Phil was his air, and how Phil had kissed him back like he was happy to sacrifice his own breath for it. He wasn’t allowed to remember how Phil had slung Dan’s legs over his lap and rested his hand on Dan’s thigh, nor how they broke apart only when the shudder of the wheel coming to a stop made them cling to each other in surprise (and then laugh) before the attendant cleared their throat and ushered the two of them off. He wasn’t allowed to remember how his knees felt like jello while they walked away and that when he offered his hand to Phil, he took it.

Being around Phil nowadays made him remember all the careful lines that had been drawn during the seven years he couldn’t remember - lines that didn’t used to be there. But if there was one thing that he loved about being around Phil, it was that Phil never made him feel like he had to be anyone but  _Dan_  - lines or no lines - uncensored, unedited, unfiltered. Being with Phil was like breathing in the most fundamental sense; to Dan, it came naturally and automatically. And he would be damned if he ever lost that feeling.

So he didn’t do exactly what he wanted to do (because that involved recreating the memory he was trying so hard to push from his mind), but he allowed himself to just go with the flow. Phil made him feel like everything was simple and beautiful, and that was a delusion he was content to live in for one night.

When they stepped off the train, Dan led the way to his flat, and Phil fell into step beside him. The backs of their hands brushed far too often for it to be a coincidence.

_Go with it, remember? It’s only Phil._

Dan swallowed, holding his arm still and turning his palm towards Phil in silent offering. He glanced at Phil, who returned his nervous half-smile as he slipped his hand into Dan’s.

There was that feeling - a fluttering sensation in his gut that rendered him a smitten teenager again. And he never wanted it to go away.

Phil tripped over seemingly nothing as they were walking, and Dan’s grip on Phil’s hand tightened.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Dan muttered, but he was smiling.

“I thought I saw something on the pavement.”

“Like what?”

“A tiny animal of some sort. I didn’t want to step on it.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Phil. Only problem was that there was nothing there.”

“Shut up.”

x

They wound up eating pizza and drinking wine while sprawled out on Dan’s sofa and pointing and laughing at the most terrible horror films they could find on Netflix, most of which included ridiculous hybrids of various sharp-toothed and/or sea creatures.

“I can see morphing a shark and, like, another kind of fish, but  _really?_ An actual  _tiger-shark?_ They’ve got to be fucking joking,” Dan said, apparently horrified at how literal the title had been.

“What if they made a lion-octopus?” Phil mused, and they exchanged wide-eyed glances before dissolving into laughter.

“A lion-pus? Brings a whole new meaning to pussy-cat.”

Phil shoved him, but Dan just continue to cackle and shoved him back.

“Ow!” Phil exclaimed, and then recognition flashed across his face. He reached into his pocket at the apparent source of the pain, and hid whatever it was in his hand as he straightened up and scooted closer to Dan.

“I meant to give this to you before the show as a good luck charm, but I forgot,” Phil said, opening his hand to reveal a glowing plastic star. Dan’s jaw dropped open.

“That’s it!”

“What?”

“It’s been in the background of your videos. I meant to ask you about that,” Dan said, picking it up and turning it over in his hand.

“Oh,” Phil said, his face flushing. “I didn’t think you’d notice… although that was my intention.”

Dan raised his eyebrows, and Phil continued.

“Well, uh, you left the stars on the ceiling when you moved out, and I kept that one. I - uh - I put it in the background just in case - “ he sighed, staring down at his lap.

“Just in case you were watching. So you would know that I was thinking about you. That - that you could always come back if you wanted to.”

Phil finally looked up, and Dan’s chest clenched at the sight of how glassy Phil’s eyes were.

“I didn’t think you would ever notice, but - I had to try.”

Dan stared down at the star again, squeezing it in his hand.

“Phil, I -” Dan began, but his voice trailed off.

“It’s okay, Dan, I know,” Phil lifted Dan’s chin with his finger so Dan would look at him. “That’s why I’m giving it to you now. I don’t need it anymore. You came back.”  

Dan threw his arms around Phil’s neck while Phil’s hands settled on Dan’s waist, and they squeezed each other tightly.

“You must’ve known that I would,” Dan murmured, rubbing Phil’s back soothingly.

“You made a pretty convincing argument against that.”

Dan pulled back, planting his hands on Phil’s shoulders.

“I lied, Phil.”

“You - what?”

“I lied. I knew that was the only way you’d let me go. I lied and I’m so sorry.”

“So, you lied about all of it, then?”

Dan swallowed. The only things he knew about the conversation that ended with him walking out were what Phil told him months ago. But he could be pretty confident in his answer anyway.

“Yes. I was so fucking stupid and I’d give anything to take it all back.”

Phil looked like the wind had been punched out of him. Dan moved one of his hands to the side of Phil’s face, tilting Phil’s head so he would look at Dan.

“I’ll never stop being sorry for it, Phil. It’ll probably take the rest of my life to make it up to you. And I’ll gladly take the time.”

“Dan,” Phil breathed. “I - I didn’t know that. I - I lied that day too. I was wrong.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have told you to go. I was so angry and hurt that I lashed out and I told you to leave.”

Now it was Dan’s turn to look like the wind had been punched out of him.

“I didn’t think you would listen. Might’ve been the first time you listened to me throughout that entire ordeal,” Phil said quietly.

“I’m listening now,” Dan replied.

Phil swallowed hard.

“I’m not as good with words as you are,” Phil murmured.

 _So don’t speak_ , Dan didn’t say.

Phil’s lips moved like he wanted to speak, but no words passed them; that little wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, just like it always did when he couldn’t figure out what to say.

All of the things Dan could say swam around in his head. This was it - this was his opportunity. PJ told him to take a risk, and he had certainly learned that sometimes it could pay off. But his breath caught in his throat and no sound would come out. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Phil’s hand slid around to the back of Dan’s neck, pressureless and gentle.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, one single finger tracing up the vertebrae, sending a harsh shudder through Dan’s body. After all that time, Phil still knew the strings to pluck.

Dan fell prey to the same magnetic force as Phil, their heads tipping forward, foreheads brushing like butterfly wings.

“I missed you too,” Dan whispered. It almost felt pointless to say it at all, but if he was going to be sucked under, he had to have one last breath. He tilted his head just so, his nose sliding past Phil’s and he could feel Phil’s breath fanning across his mouth, felt rather than heard the hitch of his own in his throat, and then Phil closed the space between their lips.

It could only be described as a whine, the noise that purled from his chest - a desperate sound, needy and starved. Phil grabbed the material of Dan’s shirt in his fist, his free hand settling between Dan’s shoulders, pulling their bodies closer together.

Without breaking the kiss, Dan swung one of his legs over Phil’s lap to straddle him. Phil’s hands automatically lowered to Dan’s hips, and he pulled his lips back, leaning his forehead against Dan’s.

“I can’t do this,” Phil said, almost inaudibly. “God, I want to. But I can’t.”

Dan’s heart sank to the floor, and he stubbornly tucked his face against Phil’s neck. He would never admit to hiding.

“Why not?” Dan asked pointlessly. He should have seen it coming from a mile away.

“Because…Nigel and I have been approved to adopt.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil attempt to sort out their complicated relationship once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I’m truly sorry (but not really and Sam thinks I’m satan).

“Oh,” was all Dan managed to get out when he could exhale again. He shouldn’t have been surprised - Phil had been working towards that goal since they had reunited. Dan had even helped make it happen. But Dan couldn’t help feeling that things were different now. Maybe that was arrogant or selfish of him but Phil was still holding him and his breath was still fast in Dan’s ear.

“Yeah. Got the call this morning,” Phil said, and Dan’s stomach twisted at how absolutely lifeless Phil’s voice sounded. Dan sighed and finally sat up from his perch against Phil’s chest. When Phil made eye contact, his gaze looked lightyears away.

“I’d be happy for you if I thought you were,” Dan murmured, gently cupping Phil’s face in his hands, trying to bring Phil back to earth.

Phil blinked and seemed to recognize Dan again.

“I thought I was. I really thought I was. But then there was you.”

Dan raised his eyebrows and waited for Phil to continue.

“You jumped into my life and redefined what I thought it meant to love someone. Not once, but twice.”

Phil’s hands remained on Dan’s hips, and he ran his thumb over the protrusions of Dan’s hipbones as he continued.

“The first time, I thought you had to love absolutely everything about someone in order to be in love with them.  And then I found you, and I knew that that was just plain wrong. The second time, I thought that the person you love is supposed to make you happy with what you have. But then you came back to me and I realized - they’re supposed to make you want _more._ You make me want to be the person you think I am. You make me want to work harder and dream bigger and never settle for less. You think deeply and you love passionately and you create broadly and when you do something, you go all the way. You always give your all, Dan. And that’s why I love you so much.”

Dan’s jaw fell slack, and at that point he wasn’t sure how many more shocking revelations he could handle. Although, all things considered, he should not have been as floored by that as he was.

“I’ve always loved you, Dan,” Phil said, his lips curving into a small smile. Dan knew that smile - he had never seen Phil look at anyone else with that smile on his mouth and in his eyes. It was reserved for Dan.

Dan’s heartbeat skipped and then accelerated, and for the first time, he believed Phil.

“I never stopped loving you, Phil,” he replied, a bit breathlessly. “I just - forgot for a while.”

The same gravitational energy as before made them lean in again, noses brushing, and then they were kissing.

Dan could taste the hesitance on Phil’s tongue, feel the way Phil’s fingernails dug into the skin of his back when he slipped his hands under Dan’s shirt, as though he were clinging to something fleeting.

Admission of their unending love for each other was supposed to precede a happily ever after and a ride off into the sunset. But Dan wasn’t an idiot. And it shouldn’t have broken his heart as much as it did when Phil pulled back once more.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured, still so close to Dan’s face that his lips ghosted over Dan’s as he said it.

“I really can’t do this,” Phil repeated, leaning against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes, and rubbing his temples.  

Dan swallowed, wanting nothing more than to take Phil into his arms and tell him that everything would be alright - but even he wasn’t that cruel. The confusion and agony Phil must have been feeling rivaled that of the guilt that pooled in Dan’s stomach as it finally clicked in his wine-ridden mind that he was sitting on a married man.

Reluctantly, Dan slumped onto the cushion beside Phil, hugging his knees to his chest and hanging his head in shame. Thick silence settled in the room, in Dan’s ears, in his lungs.

“How could you forget?” Phil whispered.

“What?”

“How could you forget that you love me? After everything we built together, you just tore it down and forgot about it?” Phil demanded, his eyebrows creased in apparent anger.

“I told you, I don’t remember a damn thing. None of it has come back,” Dan said, his voice small.

“I wish I could forget it, too,” Phil said, standing up. Phil rubbed his hands together anxiously, his fingers lingering on his wedding ring. He spread the fingers of his left hand, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to take it off. But he just shook his head, dropping his hands to his side as turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“Phil, wait -” Dan half-shouted, scrambling off of the couch, his hand colliding with something solid in the process. The dumb star was still glowing on the cushion, so he grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket.

Phil had recollected his suit jacket and had his hand poised on the door handle while Dan hurriedly put his shoes on.

“Wherever you’re going - I’m coming too. I’m not letting you walk out on me, Phil. We have to talk about this.”

Phil seemed to surrender to that, his shoulders slumping under what seemed like a very heavy weight, and held the door for Dan as they walked out of his flat.

And so the most tense, uncomfortable ride in a lift in the history of the universe happened. Phil’s behavior reminded Dan of how he had acted circa 2012 - keeping a calculated distance and carefully avoiding prolonged eye contact.

_Christ, why had Phil put up with that bullshit?_

He glanced at Phil as the floor numbers ticked down, and Phil set his jaw in apparent determination not to look at Dan, as though all of his resolve would crumble if he did.

_Oh, that._

Dan knew the feeling.

They silently exited the building, and walked for several agonizing minutes before Dan built up the courage to speak.

“Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say, Dan?” Phil said acidly.

“You have every right to be angry,” Dan replied, trying to keep his voice even. “But just talk to me, Phil. The silent treatment is deafening, and I’m not going anywhere until we’ve fixed this.”

Phil’s face fell.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” he said, sighing. “I just - I didn’t know I had a choice until now.”

“What?”

“I - I didn’t know that you still love me. I thought for sure that you didn’t - I mean, you  _said_ so, and why else would you have left?”

“I told you I lied, Phil. I refused to believe that you love me and I was so fucking stupid and I’m so sorry. I  _deserve_ to remember the past seven years. I  _wish_ I could remember how fucking miserable I was without you. I know I was, and I deserve to feel it. But instead there’s just this big empty hole and I dug it myself and I’ve put you in an impossible position and I’m so sorry,” Dan said, the words rushing out of his mouth so quickly that he must have been thinking them for months.  

“You know that now, don’t you?” Phil said softly.

“Yeah,” Dan replied, and they made eye contact for the first time since leaving Dan’s flat. Phil’s eyes glistened with unshed tears under the streetlamps as they walked. Dan bit his lip.

“But I’m not naive - I know that doesn’t change anything.”

“I dunno,” Phil murmured, rolling his shoulders and looking straight ahead.

“The awful thing is that I have a ticket out. I’m pretty sure that if I backed out of the adoption now, Nigel would want a divorce. And then I’d be free to try things with you again.”

The cruel stab of the unspoken word pierced Dan’s chest:  _maybe_. He swallowed back his knee-jerk reply.

“You really think he would?” is what he decided on instead.

Phil gulped, staring down at the ground.

“He’s been feeling a bit abandoned lately because I’ve been spending all of my free time with you. I’ve cancelled plans, lied, made excuses… Truthfully, he should leave me. I’ve essentially been cheating on him.”

“But we didn’t -” Dan cut himself off. It didn’t matter. Emotional affairs were probably ten times worse than sexual ones.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, and Phil shook his head.

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who’s married. I’m the one who’s supposed to have boundaries. You just fell back into how we used be around each other, which is only natural.”

Indeed, it was natural: all of the flirtatious comments, hand holding, just the general ease with which they had always been able to interact. Only, Phil had been right all that time ago.

“Yeah. And that’s always been in a ‘more than friends’ way,” Dan admitted.

“We can’t be close without being too close,” Phil said, staring at his feet again.

“We’re a couple of hopeless fucking morons, aren’t we?” Dan said, huffing out a half-amused noise.

“We were basically together but dissatisfied for years, and then I fucked up, and then you fucked up, and here we are. Both fucked.”

“I should have just told you how I felt from the beginning,” Phil replied with a sniff.

“Why didn’t you? I mean, I’m not absolved of being a goddamn coward either, but I always thought you’d speak up if you had something to say.”

Phil sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Same reason as you: I was scared. I try to embrace change, I really do. But I knew that telling you how I felt would change everything.”

“Not really,” Dan replied. “As far as I’m concerned, we were a closeted couple in every sense of the word. I wouldn’t have to make up excuses to kiss you and make you pancakes. That’s the only possible difference I can identify.”

“That’s what I mean. The lack of pretense would have been different.”

“I guess.” Dan swallowed and waited for Phil to say something else. Preferably something along the lines of  _I meant what I said years ago - I’d choose you every time._ But Dan couldn’t even bring himself to hope that. He never wanted it to be difficult, because that was what their relationship was never supposed to be.

Phil finally looked at Dan again, and Dan stopped walking. They were at the edge of a square with a fountain in the middle, and Dan was thankful no one else was around.

Phil’s face crumbled, and he dissolved into tears.

“I just don’t know what to do, Dan. I made a commitment to Nigel. I love him, I really do - and we were supposed to start a family together. And I want more than anything to take the chance and be with you, but I took that chance seven years ago and look where it got us.”

Dan set his jaw and bit back tears but said nothing.

“I was prepared to do that back then but I can’t just uproot my entire life now. Maybe it would have worked out back then but I just -”

“Are you happy, Phil?”

“What?”

“With Nigel, are you happy?”

“Yeah, I mean - I was.”

“Do you think you could be happy with him again if I weren’t in the picture?”

“Dan -”

“No, listen to me: all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy. And if the way I can do that is by leaving you be in the future you’ve built without me, then I’ll do it,” Dan replied, his voice breaking.

“Dan, the last thing I want is to lose you again. I’ve just found you.”

“I seem to come back to you whenever I get lost, huh?” Dan said, smiling sadly.

“Yeah,” Phil said, the corners of his mouth quirking up. He stood up a little taller. “But you listen to me, Dan. You can’t keep putting other people’s happiness before your own. You do whatever you have to do to be happy. A very smart friend of mine taught me that.”

 “The only problem with that is it requires me to tell you to leave your husband. That’s the most selfish fucking thing I can even  _fathom_ , and I can’t ask you to do that.”

“What if I wanted to?”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I  _want_ to,” Phil hesitated, but the intonation was wrong and Dan could feel the coming transition into something he _didn’t_ want to hear.

“But I just  _can’t,”_ Phil continued, as if he were begging the words to mean something else. Something happier. Something less heartbreaking. Dan wanted to take the words  _can’t_  and _won’t_ and erase them from Phil’s vocabulary, because the distinction Phil was making between them made his heart sink. He wanted to replace them with newer, finer words like _yes_  and  _always._

“I made a  _vow,_ Dan. A vow to be with Nigel for the rest of my life - a life that didn’t have you in it. We went our separate ways and that was supposed to be that. You know how I coped with you leaving after I gave up on the possibility that you’d come back? I told myself that the best thing you ever did for me was stay away. Looks like I’m not the only expert at lying to myself.”

“I didn’t expect to just fix everything, Phil!” Dan snapped. “I know the damage I did was lasting but I didn’t think it was irreparable. I hoped it wasn’t because I thought our friendship meant more to you than a mistake I made seven years ago and have regretted ever since and have done everything under the sun to make up to you -  _including_  help you adopt a child with a man you’re not even happy with anymore.”

Phil sucked in a breath, his jaw setting, like he had just been punched but wanted to pretend it didn’t hurt. But his face gave away everything.

“You’re too late,” Phil said, every word bitten off and singeing Dan’s skin as though Phil had burned them into him.

“What?”

“I said you’re too late,” Phil said, his voice breaking and his gaze falling to the ground. “I’m really sorry, Dan. But you’re too late. It doesn’t matter what you do now. We had a chance to be together, and we missed it.”

“That’s not how life works!” Dan pleaded, not even trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “You get second chances and people change and lives cross paths when you thought they never would again.”

Phil just shook his head and blinked back tears, like he refused to comprehend what Dan was saying.

 “If you shoot an arrow and you miss, you don’t walk away from the target; you get another damn arrow,” Dan said.

“Nice simile,” Phil replied, and his mouth stopped quivering for just a moment.

“That was a metaphor.”

Dan tentatively placed his fingers under Phil’s chin and tilted his head up so that Phil would look at him. He gave Phil a sad, hesitant smile.

“Please don’t do this, Phil. I need you in my life. We make each other better, happier.” Dan sighed, wiping a tear from Phil’s face with his thumb.

“You’re my sunshine.”

“That was a metaphor too,” Phil said, his voice small.

“Mhm,” Dan agreed, nodding, and he was crying too. No point in trying to stay strong for Phil anymore.  

“You’re mine too.”

“Me? Sunshine? Something tells me you  _really_ don’t understand metaphors.”

“Alright then - moonlight. You’re my moonlight.”

 _“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?”_ Dan began, and Phil laughed. He couldn’t resist the temptation to continue, though:

_“It is the east, and Phil is the sun._

_Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,_

_Who is already sick and pale with grief,_

_That thou her maid art far more fair than she:_

_Be not her maid, since she is envious;_

_Her vestal livery is but sick and green_

_And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.”_

“Did you just call me a ‘maid’? And encourage me to give up my virginity?”

“For fuck’s sake, I know of several thousand girls who would have melted at the sight of me reciting Shakespeare to them as admission of my undying love. You’d best count your blessings. Also, it’s a bit late for that.”

“Shut up,” Phil grumbled, and the glance they shared told Dan that they were definitely thinking of the same night - a night that might as well have been eons previous.

Dan’s hand acted of its own accord, and brushed Phil’s hair back from his face.

“You have a beautiful forehead,” he said, quoting his past self twice over.

“You have a beautiful everything,” Phil replied, true to script, but his eyes were still wide and glistening and grieving.

Those words didn’t have the same effect as the previous two times, because Dan’s stomach sunk between his knees. Maybe Phil meant it every time he had said it but it didn’t matter then because Dan was too dumb to believe it and it certainly didn’t matter now and it was all just so  _wrong_.

“Now’s the part where I’m supposed to kiss you,” Dan said, almost inaudibly.

“Maybe in a past life,” Phil responded. “But not now. Not again. I can’t let this go on. I’m so sorry Dan.”

Phil took Dan’s face in his hands, bowed Dan’s head towards him, and pressed a kiss to Dan’s hair. Dan threw his arms around Phil’s shoulders and squeezed him into one last embrace.

“I’ll always love you,” Dan whispered into Phil’s neck. “Until the sun burns out.”

“Until the moon falls from the sky,” Phil replied, his voice breaking. He clung to Dan’s back tightly. “But you understand, don’t you?”

Dan didn’t answer, just squeezed his eyes shut and tried to memorize the feeling of Phil in his arms, because the sickening feeling that it would never happen again pooled in his stomach, threatening to close his tightening throat.

He didn’t understand, because someone who was supposed to be Dan but wasn’t Dan was at fault here. That Dan did irrevocable damage and ruined everything and now he was saying goodbye to the one person he worked up the courage to say hello to.

Phil eased out of the hug, his movements slow and syrupy and hesitant. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He just bit his lip and wiped his eyes, giving Dan one last chance to say something. But Dan’s throat wouldn’t pass enough air to do so, so he just lifted two of his fingers to his forehead and gave Phil one final salute. Phil nodded, indicating he understood Dan’s goodbye, and walked away.

Dan knew he should have looked away - shouldn’t have watched as Phil took long strides, his arms wrapped around himself, his head bowed. But he couldn’t drag his eyes away with the knowledge that this might be the last time he would ever see Phil in person. Phil’s footsteps echoed through the empty square, and Dan could feel the image being branded into his memory permanently.

It wasn’t until Phil was long out of sight and the sound of his steps had faded that Dan truly felt the impact of what had just happened. He felt heavy, like he was going to collapse from the inside, like he couldn’t breathe, like he was drowning in a vacuum.

He threw out his arms blindly for something to support him as he sunk to his knees, and found purchase on the edge of something made of stone. He lowered himself onto it, sitting down and hiding his face in his hands.

 _No_ was the only clear thought he could form. He was properly sobbing now, but didn’t care enough to wonder if anyone would find him and think he had gone mad. Perhaps he had.

 _This can’t be happening_ , Dan told himself, but his brain overwhelmed him with the proof: the horrible sense of finality that had brought him onto his arse on some bench in the middle of London and to his lowest low. Here where he felt his mind collapsing in on itself like a black hole.

_This is all your fucking fault. Your life was just fine and you fucked it up and here you are._

Indeed, Dan had thought his life was falling apart seven years ago - but it was  _him_ who was tearing it apart.

Lucy had been right about Dan having a great life, and she would have been right seven years prior. Dan had had it all, really - friends, family, a loving group of supporters on YouTube, a career with the BBC, and a best friend who had wanted exactly what Dan wanted since the beginning.

Dan hadn’t needed to change his circumstances, just his outlook. If he had seen that he needed only seize what he already had, he would have been perfectly happy. He could have avoided all of this.

He had been too afraid to take what was already his, too afraid to continue on a path that would inevitably lead to oblivion and discredit everything he had ever done. But PJ had been right, too: to see it all as a shout to the void should warrant screaming louder, not shutting up.

Then there was the matter of ignoring what he had known all along - that the meaning of a human life is to be happy. He shouldn’t have been so scared to go out and fucking grab it by the titballs and make his own choices and be himself.

And finally, there was what Phil had always shown him, if only he had been paying attention. Phil taught him that being yourself is the best and bravest thing you can do, and that being ‘Dan’ was even better. Phil knew everything about him, inside and out, probably better than Dan did, and he loved him in spite of it.  _Because_ of it. And if Dan had realized his own worth sooner, he wouldn’t have pushed it all away.

He wouldn’t be crying in the middle of nowhere, he wouldn’t have just watched the best thing to ever happen to him walk away, and he certainly wouldn’t be toying with the plastic star Phil had given him.

It would still have been on the ceiling of Dan’s bedroom, and Phil wouldn’t have saved it as a token of his hope, and he wouldn’t have given it back to Dan as evidence of that being realized. Dan wouldn’t have noticed the dumb thing glowing in his pocket and took it out and lined it up with the five tiny scars on his palm that one of the stupid things had left there in the first place.

Dan held the star in his hand, leaning back onto his other hand, only for it to be plunged into water. Dan straightened himself up and spun round. He had, in fact, sat down on the base of a fountain. He must have been too caught up in his own remorse to hear the water flowing, or feel the light spritz he had apparently received on his back, as his shirt was damp.

Dan swallowed, his eyes trailing back to the star. He scowled at it, hating everything it represented.

 _You were supposed to bring me back to Phil,_ he thought.  _You failed. I failed. We all fucking failed._

He squeezed it in his hand, standing up on unsteady legs and staring up at the night sky. Only a few choice stars were visible because of London’s ample light pollution. Dan sniffed.

 _Well, you’re no good to me now,_ Dan thought, his gaze dropping to the plastic one _._

_Not that you ever were. The only thing you stars know how to do is burn, end, and take everything with you in the process. Congratulations, you served your purpose._

Dan looked up at the fountain, his eyes fixing on it, then the star, and back. He sighed, figuring he might as fucking well. He wanted that fucker out of his sight immediately, and, once again, the fountain provided an excellent receptacle.

Dan clutched the star in his hand one last time.

_I wish I had the chance to do it all over again. To get it right this time._

He tossed the star into the fountain, and it hit the water with an all too unsatisfying  _plop._

Once he had gathered his bearings, he trudged back to his flat with his shoulders slumped and his heart heavy.

His empty flat seemed to mock him as every sound he made echoed. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and pretend that nothing had changed since the last time he had crawled into bed. That he could wake up the next morning excited to perform again and Phil would be there when he got home and that everything was fine.

But he wasn’t as good at lying to himself anymore.

x

When Dan awoke, he was surprised to see that his eyes had to adjust to darkness. He had hoped to at least sleep until sunrise - had he even slept at all? Dan squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his back. The events of the previous day came flooding back, and a physical ache tugged at his chest. He wondered if there would ever come a day when Phil wouldn’t be the first thing he thought about when he woke up.

In his mind’s eye, he felt it all again: Phil’s hand in his, Phil’s mouth moving against his, the distance and silence that spoke volumes, Phil pressing his lips to Dan’s forehead in a final parting gesture before he walked out of Dan’s life.  

Dan smacked his hand over his eyes, as though that would keep the tears from brimming, but several spots on his hand felt sore. Dan extended his arm and held his hand in front of him, blinking rapidly, and five tiny cuts in palm came into focus. Had he made his hand bleed from holding the star so tightly? He didn’t remember doing that.

He dropped his hand to the bed and stared up at the ceiling, which was -  _what_  - covered in stars. Dan sat bolt upright.

 _What the fuck are those doing here?!_  he thought, glancing around the room. Only it wasn’t his room - at least, it  _had_ been his room at some point. It was his room in his shared flat with Phil, complete with his out-of-tune piano and butt chair and black and white duvet.

Dan was tempted to pinch himself, but blindly tossing his arm out to his bedside table did the trick, as his hand smacked into the corner of the table, and it definitely hurt. Cursing under his breath, he groped around for his phone and tapped the home button.

It was past 4AM, and, apparently,  _the 19th of May?_

Dan hurried unlocked his phone and checked the calendar.

The year was 2014.

Dan’s body kicked into overdrive as he scrambled off of his bed, turned on the light, and stood in front of his mirror. He ran his hand over his face, through his hair, over his stomach, and sure enough, he was definitely twenty-two again. His fitness and ability to grow facial hair had apparently stayed in the year 2021.

Dan reached for his phone again, quickly opening chrome and searching for Lucy on google. Several headshots of a younger-looking Lucy popped up, and Dan found her listed in the cast of  _The Merchant of Venice_ in a small theater in Manchester _._ He recalled her saying that she had been in that play twice: once when she was fresh out of college, and again several years later. This must have been the first time.

He searched for everyone he could remember the first and last name of, and every single cast member of  _Romeo and Juliet_  that had a Facebook was as he remembered (if younger and less successful). Even pictures of the Globe, which Dan had never been inside of prior to 2021, looked incredibly familiar.

Dan tested himself, picturing how the house in the Globe was set up before looking at the picture, and it was exactly as he had expected. The curtains and seats even had the same colour fabric.

His mind and heart were racing, and he forced himself to sit down and take deep breaths.

_Okay, so everyone you met in 2021 is real. So it couldn’t have just been a dream.  You tossed a star into the fountain in 2014, woke up in 2021, and then did the reverse. And shit happened in between. A lot of shit._

Dan’s gaze fixed on the ceiling. He immediately stood up on his bed and began tearing them off the ceiling and tossing them to the floor.

 _Nope I am_ not  _having any magic time-travelling hand-cutting star shit in my bedroom thank you very much._

He kept muttering an assortment of variations of the word ‘no’ under his breath as he peeled the rest of the stars from the ceiling. He gave the whole room a cursory sweep, making sure none were left, when a figure in his doorway caught his eye.

Phil -  27-year-old, black-haired Phil - was leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised, shirtless and broad shouldered and, most gloriously, there was no ring on his finger.

“Dan, what’re you doing?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously floored by how much all of you have loved this fic. I’m really proud of it and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. Send all the love to Sam, because this fic wouldn’t be close to what it is without her. Thanks for coming on this journey with me. <3

“Phil?!” Dan exclaimed as he fair near launched himself off of his bed and into Phil. His momentum sent him crashing into Phil, flattening his back against the doorframe. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders, half to steady him and half to make sure he was real.

He was definitely real.

In the second of stillness that followed, Dan regretted acting so impulsively. He had no idea how much time had passed or what had happened since he’d been gone. He still lived with Phil, which was a good sign, but what had he missed this time?

In answer, Phil wound his arms round Dan’s waist and squeezed him back.

“You okay, Bear?” Phil murmured.

“You have no fucking idea,” Dan replied, his face buried in the crook of Phil’s neck.

“What’s happened?”

“It’s a fucking _long_ story,” Dan said, pulling back and looking at Phil.

“Can’t see how it could be, considering it’s only been about two hours since we last spoke,” Phil said, pushing the hair out of Dan’s face. “But I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“What d’you mean it’s -” Dan began, and then it clicked. He had been asleep in 2014 while everything in 2021 transpired. But it wasn’t just a dream; he proved that to himself and he could prove it to Phil too. If only he knew where to start.

“You’d be surprised,” Dan said, and Phil raised his eyebrows. “Just - give me a minute to collect my thoughts.”

“Like I said, all the time in the world,” Phil replied, his lips curving into an encouraging smile.

It felt so inexplicably _good_ to see the life in Phil’s eyes again - the spark that Dan loved about Phil so much - and know that he put it there. Phil took Dan’s hand in his, running his thumb gently across his palm, and Dan flinched reflexively - the cuts were really smarting for such tiny wounds.

Phil frowned, lifting Dan’s hand and examining it.

“Dan, what did you…?”

“Like I said, long story,” Dan replied, shrugging.

“These need to be cleaned,” Phil declared, taking Dan by his other hand and leading him down the hall to the stairs.

“They’re fine,” Dan whined, but even he didn’t buy that bullshit. Even though he couldn’t really feel the pain at the moment, those cuts left pretty impressive scars after seven years, so they must have been deep.

Phil just ignored him, lacing their fingers together as they climbed down the stairs and into the bathroom.

“Put your hand under the tap,” Phil told Dan as he retrieved the first aid kit and a cloth. Dan did as Phil instructed, letting the cold water run over his hand. Phil swooped in and gently wiped the cuts with the cloth, and Dan winced.

“Sorry,” Phil said, dabbing instead of rubbing.

“‘S fine.”

Dan watched Phil carefully clean the dried blood away from one of the wounds in silence. He sighed in defeat, figuring now would be the best time to explain.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy when I tell you what’s happened. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You could start with how you got these,” Phil said, his eyes flicking up to Dan’s for a moment, concern knitting his brows together.

“Well, um, you know the stars you gave me?”

Phil nodded, his fringe hiding his face as he resumed his work.

“I took one on my walk with me and - uh - well first I might have squeezed the fuck out of it, which is where the cuts came from. Then I tossed it into this fountain. I made a wish that you would find someone who could make you happy, someone better than me.”

Phil looked up and opened his mouth to protest, but Dan just shook his head.

“Just let me talk for a minute, okay? And I came back here and fell asleep and woke up, only that didn’t happen just now. When I woke up, it was the year 2021.”

He hesitated, mostly because Phil had no visible reaction to that statement.

So he pressed on, relaying every detail he could think of that didn’t include Phil. Phil remained silent, his hair covering his face, but Dan knew he was listening. He was attuned to Phil’s body, so he noticed the way Phil’s shoulders stiffened when Dan told him about waking up next to ‘Megan’, the way he paused for just a moment when Dan admitted to quitting YouTube. What finally made him look up was the mention of Dan’s role as Romeo at the Globe.

“You did _Shakespeare?_ Really? Wow.”

            “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. Most of it is just dick jokes and sadness.”

“I’m sure you fit right in then,” Phil answered, clearly holding back a smirk.  

Dan pressed on, diving straight into the best part of the story: his experience at the Globe, meeting Lucy, how much he missed stage acting.

“This seems like a pretty detailed dream,” Phil interjected after a while of Dan’s rambling.

“Well, that’s the thing - fucking _ow_ ,” Dan compained. Phil had dabbed one of his wounds with hydrogen peroxide, and it stung like hell.

“Sorry.”

“You’re definitely not. Anyway, uh, this is the crazy part. When I woke up in 2014 - like, just now - I looked up the Globe and all the people I met. They’re _real_ , Phil. Every last one of them. I’ve never been inside the theater apart from then and I knew exactly what it looked like before I saw the images. I even tested myself. I could tell you about every single part Lucy will play in the next seven years and then watch it happen.”

Phil’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“You’re not serious?”

“I _am._ I swear I haven’t gone mad. You believed me then, if that helps.”

“I was there?”

Dan swallowed. Frankly, he was pretty impressed with himself for being able to leave Phil out of the story until then.

“You were the first person I called.”

“And what did I do?” Phil prompted, and he resumed stinging the fuck out of Dan’s hand. Dan sucked in a breath through his nose, trying not to be such a baby.

“I think it’s best to do it all at once,” Dan muttered, and he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But Phil seemed to take that as invitation to dump the peroxide onto Dan’s hand. Dan clenched his teeth together as the antiseptic fizzed and burned.

“You left your shared flat with your husband named Nigel and came to my flat that I clearly didn’t see as my home and told me that we hadn’t spoken in years because I stopped talking to you after your wedding and that I left you the day following what is now today,” Dan rambled in one breath.

 _“What?!”_ Phil exclaimed, dropping the bottle of peroxide into the sink (thankfully missing Dan’s hand). Phil stared at Dan imploringly, letting the liquid gush out of the bottle and down the drain.

Perhaps pulling off the plaster quickly wasn’t the best method for this particular situation.

“So, um, in this future, I woke up the morning following this night we are now living, and, uh - did I mention I can’t remember anything between falling asleep today and waking up in 2021?”

“Yes,” Phil said breathlessly, his eyes never leaving Dan’s face.

“Right, welI… I left. I told you that I didn’t love you and, like I said, quit YouTube and the radio show and moved out and my god, _I_ didn’t even really _do it_ and I still regret it. But it was real at the time and when you came over after I called - you told me what had happened. You were really upset at me.”

“No kidding,” Phil said, blinking rapidly. “Now what was that about me being married to someone with the same name as my dad?”

“Is that your dad’s name? I forgot,” Dan said, swallowing. “Anyway, yeah. That was a thing. I got what I wanted. You were happy with him.”

“But?” Phil caught on to the hesitance in Dan’s voice, and he removed the now-empty bottle of peroxide from the sink.

“But then I came along and I ruined everything for you. You and your husband were about to adopt a child and then I busted in and ruined it.”

“What d’you mean?” Phil picked up the cloth, rinsed it out, and gave Dan’s hand one last wipe-down before applying some antibiotic ointment.

“Well, uh,” Dan paused, and he could think of no other way to phrase it. “When I called you and we reconnected and stuff - we basically just went back to how we always were.”

Phil looked up, and his expression was soft.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was difficult at first. It was always difficult. But eventually we kind of just fell back into old habits.”

Phil smiled, wrapping Dan’s palm in a bandage.

“The hell are you smiling at? This was very traumatic for both of us, Phil. Wait til you hear the rest.”

“Do I really need to? All I heard was ‘we fell in love again’.”

Dan’s jaw fell slack.

“That’s your takeaway from this? I fucked your whole damn life up, Phil! We were basically in some kind of emotional affair and you were considering leaving your husband for me and then you decided you couldn’t do it. _You put one of those stars in the background of your videos for seven fucking years in the hopes that I would see it and come back,_ ” Dan continued. “I was a fucking moron and I broke your heart, Phil - why aren’t you mad at me?”

Phil just smiled, shaking his head, as he taped the bandage down and packed up the first aid kit.

“Because you _didn’t,_ Dan, not really.”

“But I _did,_ Phil. The only reason I’m here now is because you gave me that damn star back and I wished for a second chance.”

“Don’t you see? The only reason you wished on that star in the first place is because you thought we’d be better off apart.”

“That _you’d_ be better off without _me,_ ” Dan corrected.

“And now you’ve clearly learned that that’s not the case.”

Dan opened his mouth to reply, but promptly shut it again when Phil’s words from 2021 came back to him - about how Phil had always loved him, that maybe in another life they could have been together, how much Phil clearly wanted to abandon everything to be with Dan.

“But you didn’t choose me. You said you’d choose me every time and you didn’t,” Dan said, his voice thick.

It was dumb, because it wasn’t this Phil - _his_ Phil that had done that. Logically, he couldn’t be upset with Phil for doing something that he hadn’t even done. Not yet, anyway. But since when did that dumb, aching hole in his chest listen to reason?

Dan felt tears brimming in his eyes, and before he could blink them back, he was in Phil’s arms.

“I meant that,” Phil murmured, tucking Dan’s face into the crook of his neck and rubbing Dan’s back.

“I don’t care what kind of future you wound up in, but it’s not one that I will ever let happen. Because no matter what, we love each other. That’s what I took away from your story. And I believe you that it happened, I really do. But it didn’t happen to me, and it’s not going to, because I won’t let you believe that I’d be better off without you because it’s just not true. I don’t believe that any choices I made in that future were made out of anything but love for you, Dan. Otherwise, it couldn’t have been me.”

Dan just squeezed Phil tighter, tears freely flowing down his face and onto Phil’s bare skin. He almost resented the fact that Phil was shirtless because he had nothing else to grab on to - it was all just Phil. But Dan was pretty content with that.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Phil soothed, resting his cheek on the top of Dan’s head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna stay right here, where we both belong.”

“Promise me,” Dan said against Phil’s skin, his lips brushing the contour of Phil’s collar bone. “I just need to hear you say it.”

“I promise,” Phil murmured. He pulled back, and Dan reluctantly straightened up. The sincerity in Phil’s eyes pierced Dan to his core, and he wanted nothing more than to say it back. To promise that he had learned so much - that he would earn Phil’s love again and again but he only wanted to do it once. To promise that he’d never leave or tear down what they had built together. To promise that he never really wanted to. To promise to see himself as Phil saw him.

But his throat was tight with the disbelief and joy that it was real. His voice wouldn’t be able to form anything near what he wanted to say, he knew it.  

Phil wiped away a tear with his thumb, his fingertips resting at Dan’s jaw. Dan swallowed, willing himself to say _something_ , because he needed Phil to know what he was thinking even if he couldn’t articulate it properly.

“You’re my sunshine,” is what he decided on, and he managed a small smile.

“And you’re mine,” Phil replied, grinning at him.

“Me? Sunshine? That’ll never stop being funny.”

Dan was reminded of that exact statement Phil had made in 2021. He was positive his surprise was poorly disguised when Phil continued just as he had then.

“Fine. You’re more like… moonlight. Darker but softer round the edges.”

“And just like how the moon reflects the sun, the light that shines off me is a reflection of how bright you are,” Dan said softly.

“Are you flirting with me, Howell?” Phil smirked, but he was clearly blushing.

“I’m trying to be _romantic,_ you twat. Why does that never work on you?”

“I’m immune to your charms.”

“Clearly,” Dan scoffed, resting his forehead against Phil’s. “Kiss me anyway.”

“As you wish,” Phil retorted. Their mouths met, but it wasn’t a proper kiss because they were both still smiling.

Dan laughed, his nose bumping into Phil’s a bit awkwardly, but it hardly mattered. He pressed his lips to Phil’s softly, just for a moment, before going in more forcefully. Phil reciprocated eagerly, the fingers of one hand twisting into Dan’s hair while his other hand trailed up Dan’s back under his shirt. Dan just drew Phil closer to him, pressing their bodies together as close as he could while maintaining enough space to give their heads leverage.

Once they had settled into their embrace, everything stilled. Dan squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter, taking a second just to drink it all in. Any sneaking suspicion that the situation wasn’t real dissipated, because it had never felt more grounding or reassuring to have Phil in his arms.

Phil pulled back and took a long breath, which made Dan wonder how long he had kept their mouths sealed together, unmoving, if Phil needed to come up for air. Dan let out a half-amused exhale.

“You have to admit that I take your breath away,” he murmured.

“Ya caught me there,” Phil said, kissing him again.

“Who needs oxygen anyway?”

“Most living things. Actually, it might be all of them.”

“You’re not going to _be_ a living thing if you don’t shut up and kiss me.”

“I never thought necrophilia was your thing, Dan.”

“You’re so _annoying_ ,” Dan said, but he was laughing.

“You know what else is annoying?” Phil said, tugging half-heartedly at the hem of Dan’s shirt.

“How many guesses do I get?” Dan teased, and lifted his arms obediently. Phil pulled his shirt up and off and discarded it onto the floor.

Phil just shook his head in response, a bemused smirk curving his mouth. He gently pushed Dan’s back against the wall, snaked his arms around Dan’s neck, and kissed him again.

Their mouths molded together with practised ease, but Dan couldn’t help but feel more comfortable and free that he had ever been able to while kissing Phil. He didn’t need to worry about getting too into it, or lingering, or feeling guilty, or anything but just _Phil_. And the sensation brought back a familiar swirling, fluttery feeling in his gut that never wanted to end.

“What if I told you,” Phil began, pulling back just enough to speak, “that there are at least five better places in the house to do this, and most of them involve cushions of some sort.”

“You’re not the one with his back pressed against a mirror right now,” Dan grumbled.

“And you’re probably not going to be the one to clean it off later.”

“...touche.”

Phil laughed. Dan shook his head, took him by the hand, and led the way back to his bedroom.

Phil flopped onto the bed first (which had been nearly stripped in Dan’s haste to get out of it earlier) while Dan wiggled and hopped out of his jeans. For a brief moment, he was afraid that struggle would not be particularly sexy, but Phil wasn’t even looking. His eyes were closed, his long limbs sprawled out.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just want to sleep,” Dan teased, crawling onto the bed beside him.

“What gave it away?” Phil said with an exaggerated yawn.

Dan rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock. Nearly 5 AM.

“Forgive me for running on the thrill of being back in the present and that of, you know, confessing our undying love for each other,” Dan said, smacking Phil on the back with a pillow out of mock offense.

“Well, if our love is undying then surely it can wait til after I’ve slept?” he replied, propping his head up his elbow and facing Dan.

“You haven’t slept?”

“Not a wink. Was worried about you, of course. What weird conclusions you may have been coming to in that brilliant but overactive mind.”

“Right, yeah.” Dan remembered the things he had said before he left to go on that walk, and it only made sense that they kept Phil awake.

“You know that -” Dan began, but was cut off by Phil rolling on top of him.

“Of course I do,” Phil replied, pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek and pulling the covers over them.

Dan smiled, wrapping an arm around Phil’s waist as Phil settled more comfortably onto his pillow of Dan’s shoulder.

There would be plenty of time to talk everything out in more depth later. For now, Dan was content to leave it be. Dan reached for the switch on his lamp, careful not to jostle an already half-asleep Phil. Only the room didn’t go completely dark, of course - the stars he had discarded still laid on the carpet.

His immediate reaction was to get up and very forcefully remove them from his sight, but Phil’s slow, steady breaths against his chest reminded him that moving at all at that moment would be a criminal offense. Once his knee-jerk impulse had subsided, he realized he didn’t particularly mind having them there. They weren’t so intimidating anymore, now that he wasn’t looking up at them. He was among them, and it felt oddly peaceful. ‘The quiet terror of being alive’, as a tumblr post he had once seen so eloquently put it, had, for the moment, ceased drowning him in his own insignificance.

As he and Phil drifted off with limbs and sheets and fingers tangled together, Dan finally felt like he could float.

x

When Dan woke up, he felt a bit dazed. His body was sending him way too many sensations at once and he couldn’t come to fast enough to process them. After several moments, he concluded that everything was simply too warm.

He opened his eyes, and the sight of his gloriously blank ceiling brought everything back, including the feeling of Phil curled up with him. As much as he loved cuddling, Phil was an actual space heater and the covers did no favors for how much he was sweating or the numbness in his arm. He felt personally victimized by physics, because there _had_ to be a better way for two grown men to cuddle without the threat of pins and needles and neck pain, and he was determined to find it.

But Phil was still sound asleep, so he resigned himself to just awkwardly shuffling around until he had kicked the sheets off. That had been a damn near impossible task in itself, as Phil’s legs were thoroughly entwined with his own. Thankfully, though, Phil was a heavy sleeper, and none of the movement seemed to stir him at all.

Dan was pretty content to lay there and wait for Phil to wake, but an obnoxious grumbling in his stomach crushed his dreams. He was absolutely starving, and Phil was bound to wake up soon anyway.

Dan carefully disentangled himself from Phil, and quickly grabbed the green stuffed creature Phil had given him years ago on his birthday (which, admittedly, he kept beside his bed for this very purpose: emergency cuddles). He placed it into Phil’s arms so that he would have something to hold onto and slunk off to the kitchen.

He would do the romantic thing and make pancakes, but the prospect seemed far too involved for his liking. It would take entirely too long, so he settled for making some fried eggs and toast.

While he was waiting for the eggs to cook and the bread to toast, he heard Phil padding down the stairs to the kitchen. A huge grin spanned his face, and he pretended not to know Phil was there when he opened the glass door, came up behind Dan, and snaked his arms around Dan’s waist.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the food, but after what you told me last night, I kind of freaked out for a few seconds when I woke up in an empty bed,” Phil murmured, hooking his chin over Dan’s shoulder and watching him check the underside of the eggs.

“Oh - I didn’t even think of that. Sorry.”

“‘S okay. I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me,” he said, pressing his lips to Dan’s neck several times in quick succession. A shiver ran up Dan’s spine.

“Can you not touch my g-spot when I’m cooking, thanks?”

Phil laughed, his breath warm against Dan’s skin.

“Sorry, love. Was disappointed that I didn’t get to wake you up that way.”

Dan felt his cheeks grow hot as he flipped the eggs over one by one.

“Are we doing pet names now, sweetheart?” He retorted, and he couldn’t repress a giggle.

“Only if you want, darling.”

Dan shook his head, switching off the stovetop now that the eggs were done.

“Verbal affection is dumb and gross and I want no part in it.”

“And by that you mean, ‘drown me in it, Philip’,” Phil teased, taking the toast out and searching the fridge for something to put on it.

“Okay, I will call you _baby_ every hour of the day before I call you Philip unironically.”

“That ismy name, _Daniel._ I think it’s a strong name.”

“Obviously it is, _Phil_ ,” Dan said, sliding the eggs onto plates and offering them to Phil to place the toast on. He grabbed some silverware and napkins and made his way to the table while Phil poured them glasses of orange juice. Dan sat down, and Phil joined him moments later.

They munched in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dan spoke up.

“So, um, I’ve discussed _this_ ,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of them, “with you at length. But you haven’t discussed it with me. So. Yeah.”

Phil smiled, taking Dan’s right hand in his left (a beautiful arrangement, really, because they could continue eating, and Dan could feel, rather than see, the reassuring lack of a ring).

“I think we’ve well established how we feel so I think the only question is what you want to call it,” Phil said, taking a bite of toast.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like, are we _boyfriends_ now?” Phil asked, putting a seemingly unnecessary amount of emphasis on the word.

“Seems kinda childish, I guess. But we are, like, an item? An official thing?”

“There are entirely too many words for this and none of them express what you are to me,” Phil said, shaking his head. “But yes.”

Dan smiled, running his thumb over the back of Phil’s hand.

“Yeah, I agree. Guess that’s why I’m not a fan of cute nicknames. To me you’re just ‘Phil’, and that encompasses a lot.”

“Just ‘Phil’? I feel as though I should be offended.”

“Well, like you said, it’s a strong name,” Dan said, rolling his eyes and dramatically crunching his toast. “And you’re not _just_ anything, you compliment-fishing turnip.”

Phil laughed, slipping his fingers between Dan’s and intertwining them.

“As are you. You’re my Dan. And I hope you realize just how important that is.”

“Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson,” Dan replied. “Future you was very adamant about being sure I knew just how many stars I put in the sky. All of them, by the way.”  

“Future me was spot on. And present me intends to carry that on.”

“...That doesn’t make sense.”

“The actual time travel that you apparently did doesn’t make sense,” Phil retorted.

“You win.”

“I do, actually,” Phil said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before swooping in and giving Dan a kiss on the cheek.

“Why is it that you get to do that when all of my attempts at being romantic are shut down?”

“Because the only thing I love more than you is annoying you.”

“See? Like that! You say that shit like it’s nothing and when I try you’re just like, ‘Dan, you can’t _actually_ love me until the sun burns out, you’ll be long dead by then’.”

“I have never said anything of that sort.”

“Okay, _fine_ , you didn’t actually respond that way. I’ll give you that.”

“Did you really say that to me, though?” Phil said, his cheeks going a bit red.

“Yeah. And, um, you said you’d love me til the moon falls from the sky.”

“Wow, I’m _good._ ”

“Really, though. Smooth as silk as you trip over air and attract weird strangers.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Dan challenged, and Phil seemed to contemplate that for a moment, his eyes flicking to their dirty dishes, to Dan, and back.

“Later. We have dishes to do and I desperately need a shower.”

“We can multitask.”

“Are you suggesting we wash the dishes in the shower?” Phil asked, and Dan raised his eyebrows, entirely unsure if Phil was serious. Evidently, he was.

“No, I’m suggesting we shower together and fuck the dishes.”

“...Now I’m just confused. I thought the goal was to fuck each other?”

They both absolutely lost it. Dan threw his head back laughing with such force he nearly tipped back the chair, while Phil cracked up behind his hands.

“Yes, Phil, _that_ is what I was getting at,” Dan wheezed. “Please don’t have sex with our kitchenware.”

Phil managed to calm himself down enough to respond, but still couldn’t keep a straight face.

“In that case, I suggest you not use the wooden spoon. Ever. Again.”

 _“PHIL,”_ Dan practically shouted, clutching his stomach. Phil flopped onto the table, hiding his face in his arms.

“Sometimes I wish I could laugh in the faces of the people who call you innocent,” Dan said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Dan couldn’t hear Phil’s reply, which was muted by his arms and possibly by shame.

“C’mon, you filthy thing, let’s go shower,” Dan said, standing up and tugging at Phil’s arm until the latter sat up and joined him.

When they had reached the bathroom, Dan closed the door behind them. God forbid their landlord busted in unannounced.

Dan unravelled the bandage on his hand and tossed it into the bin, making a mental note to redress his hand after showering. Phil turned on the water, lazily holding an arm up to feel the water heat up as he watched Dan strip off his boxers.

The action should have been second nature because Phil had seen Dan naked more times than either of them cared to contemplate. But, again, it felt different. It was familiar, but that wasn’t what made it comfortable.

The fear that Phil would reject him when he was at his most physically and emotionally vulnerable state lied blissfully dormant. It had always lingered in the back of his brain - that Phil could just change his mind and what little Dan got of what he actually wanted out of their relationship would be taken from him. But Phil had the superpower of erasing people’s doubt, and if Dan didn’t believe wholeheartedly in what they had now, then there was no hope for them.

But then Phil turned to look at him, his hair falling in his eyes with the swiftness of the movement and he smiled - a big, goofy, toothy grin that lit up the whole room - and Dan’s doubt evaporated. That was a special smile: reserved for romantic implications, reserved for moments like this. Moments that carried a lot of weight but were never taken too seriously, because that wasn’t how they operated.

All of which were reserved for _Dan._

Dan grinned back and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you going to get naked too or are you just going to stare at me?”

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled. Dan took all too much pleasure in making him blush. “Water’s warm.”

Phil stepped aside to remove his pajamas, and Dan hopped into the shower.

The water was as advertised, so he moved under the stream, lazily running his fingers through his hair. Phil joined him moments later, and Dan couldn’t resist looking him up and down in appreciation.

Phil just smirked, stepping past Dan and wetting his hair.

“Nice arse,” Dan muttered, grabbing Phil’s shampoo and squeezing some into his good hand. Phil went very still before he cracked up laughing.

“Okay, you can’t compliment my arse and then squeeze a bottle of something while I’m not looking,” Phil sputtered.

“Oh my _god,”_ Dan wheezed, dropping the bottle, which narrowly missed his foot. “Yeah, you need a good, thorough cleaning. Get over here you sick fuck.”

Phil obeyed, still laughing, as he stood to face Dan. Dan lathered the shampoo into Phil’s hair, smirking when he noticed that Phil needed to touch up his roots.

“So of all the things I told you about 2021 - this might be the craziest one. You stopped dyeing your hair.”

“Really?” Phil asked, his eyes wide. “How awful did it look?”

“Not bad at all. Also it was shorter. And you wore glasses most of the time.”

“Wait - _how_ far into the future did you go? Seven years or seventeen?”

“Well, you were 35. Practically a dinosaur.”

“You are aware that we age at the same rate? You were _thirty_ ,” Phil reminded him.

“And if you know me at all, you know I had a crisis about it,” Dan retorted. He ran his fingers through Phil’s hair, sticking it straight upward and making spikes.

“What’re you doing?” Phil said, a goofy smile indicating that the question was unnecessary.

“Maintaining my fleeting youth, obviously,” Dan said, sculpting Phil’s hair into a mohawk.

“Can you do it a bit faster so we don’t run out of hot water?”

“Good point,” Dan agreed, retracting his hands and watching in exaggerated disappointment as his work rinsed away. He quickly finished washing Phil’s hair, and Phil indicated that it was Dan’s turn.

Phil couldn’t resist playing with Dan’s hair, choosing to comb all of it forward, covering Dan’s face, before fashioning it into a quiff.

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Dan said, clearly as amused as Phil.

“You’d look good with a quiff, though,” Phil insisted.

“My forehead is far too big for that.”

“Your forehead is lovely.”

Before Dan could formulate any kind of response, Phil gently pushed him under the showerhead to rinse. Dan surrendered, letting the water wash away the foam while Phil gently directed it out of his eyes.

They both stepped away from the water, standing an adequate distance away so that it splashed onto their shoulders and not in their faces.

Phil made a move to grab a cloth from where it was slung over the bath faucet, but seemed to decide against it before picking up Dan’s shower gel and dispensing some of it onto his hand. He rubbed his palms together to create a lather and ran his hands over Dan’s shoulders and down the line of his collarbones.

Phil repeated the motion several times, his eyes trailing the movements and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I think I’m clean there,” Dan teased. Phil didn’t look up - just continued his way down Dan’s chest and over his stomach.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled, pressing his lips to Dan’s neck and running his hands softly but deliberately over Dan’s torso. Dan sucked in a quick breath, his arms instinctively reaching out and wrapping around Phil’s back.

“Is it okay if I kiss your neck _now?_ ” Phil quipped, and Dan could _hear_ the shit-eating grin in that was no doubt spanning his face.

“Take your own advice and shut up.”

“As you wish, love,” Phil murmured, keeping his promise and resuming his work. His hands drifted around Dan’s hips to cup his arse and squeezed. They didn’t linger for long, though; Phil’s hands retracted to reach for more shower gel, and Dan whined a little.

“I have to keep up the ruse of ‘washing you’, don’t I?” Phil said, standing behind Dan and placing his hands at Dan’s lower back. He worked up and around to Dan’s forearms, like he was drawing wings on Dan’s body.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Dan said, closing his eyes and drinking in the feeling of being touched so intimately. They had showered together before, but it was always quick and usually ended with one of them on their knees getting their wet hair pulled. Not that Dan was ever particularly disappointed with that outcome, but it felt nice to be rid of the pretense and just enjoy each other.

“Almost done, anyway,” Phil replied, bending over to wash Dan’s legs. “Actually, this could take a while.”

“Sorry I didn’t remove my stilts for your washing convenience.”

“So inconsiderate.”  

Phil quickly cleaned Dan’s legs, lingering on his inner thighs, apparently just to hear Dan’s breath catch in his throat - more than once.

“Alright, your turn,” Dan said, reluctantly pulling Phil’s hands away from his body.

“I dunno why you’re so eager - at this rate we’re just going to wind up right back in here in about an hour.”

“An _hour?_ Fucking worth it then,” Dan smirked, grabbing Phil’s shower gel and pouring some onto his good hand. He murmured an apology about having only one to use, as the shampoo had made his cuts burn, but it was quickly silenced by Phil’s mouth on his.

Dan hummed his appreciation, rubbing large circles into Phil’s back and slinging his other arm around Phil’s neck.

Dan’s hand explored Phil’s skin - trailing down his arm to briefly tangle his fingers with Phil’s, across the sensitive area of his ribs, through the tufts of hair on Phil’s chest and below his belly button.

Phil full-on moaned when Dan gripped his cock and stroked it loosely once, twice -

“Okay we’re getting out now,” Phil huffed out in one breath, batting Dan’s hand away. Dan nodded and switched off the water. Phil clambered out of the tub first in pursuit of a towel, drying himself off faster than Dan had ever seen him do anything.

“What’s the matter?” Dan asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Phil had every right to change his mind, of course, but that didn’t mean Dan wasn’t confused about it.

“Nothing,” Phil said, wrapping a towel round Dan’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Just wanted to get out before we got too far gone and were tempted to try shower sex again. That did _not_ go well last time.”

Dan remembered that all too well. Whose idea was it to attempt something so mechanical in a slippery, enclosed space anyway? Two clumsy, unathletic, overgrown men, that’s who - and it did not go as planned.

“True enough.” Dan laughed, grabbing the towel and drying himself in record time while Phil did the same. When they were sufficiently dry, Dan wrapped an arm around Phil’s waist as they ambled out of the bathroom.

“Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil said, dropping a kiss onto Dan’s shoulder as they walked up the stairs. Dan knew what was coming next, and sure enough, Phil’s hands came up to his shoulders to push him against the wall. But Dan wasn’t having that.

“Nope,” he said, gripping one of Phil’s wrists and dragging him up the remaining steps. “No time for wall snogging, we are making it to a bed this time or so help me.”

Phil laughed, and settled for pushing Dan against his own bed when they eventually made it there (after fending off kisses and attempts to slow their own efforts for shits and giggles). He sealed their mouths together, straddling Dan’s hips and pushing down to create some much needed friction. Dan moaned into Phil’s mouth, nibbling on his lower lip and sucking hungrily.

Phil pulled back, pressing his mouth to Dan’s neck and nibbling.

“You’re gonna - give me a hickey,” Dan breathed, his speech interrupted by Phil grinding their cocks together again.

“Wear a collared shirt,” Phil suggested.

“Just do it lower, okay? Someplace that a t shirt would cover.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed, crawling down Dan’s body until his head was between Dan’s legs. He placed his hands at the back of Dan’s knees and spread his legs, attaching his mouth to Dan’s inner thigh.

Dan’s sarcastic comment about how a t shirt wouldn’t cover that spot died in his throat. Phil nipped at the sensitive skin, and Dan swore under his breath, his fingers fisting in Phil’s hair.

Phil wrapped his fingers around Dan’s erection, stroking it loosely several times. He pulled back from Dan’s thigh, his gaze fixed on Dan’s face, and licked a stripe up Dan’s length.

Dan inhaled sharply, and Phil needed no further invitation. He took Dan’s cock fully into his mouth, his cheeks concave. Dan’s head fell back against the duvet, and he had never been more appreciative of the fact that Phil knew exactly how to pleasure him.

Their sexual encounters had a well-established rhythm, but somehow managed to not grow boring or routine. Maybe they were just good at mixing things up. Or maybe the slick, wet heat of Phil’s mouth on his length could never bore him in a million years. Probably the latter.

Phil’s head bobbed up and down with deliberate slowness as he sucked hard, his hands bracing against Dan’s hips to keep them from canting them upward. Dan sat up, removing his hands from Phil’s hair leaning back on his elbows so that he could watch.

Phil looked up and slid his way off of Dan’s length, presumably to check that everything was okay. Dan gave him a reassuring nod, and Phil smirked, brushing his fringe from his eyes so as to give Dan a better view when he ducked back down.

He wrapped his hand around Dan’s cock, using it as an extension of his mouth, his eyes fixed on Dan’s face. The image was impossibly beautiful - Phil’s eyes wide and focused, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his lips plump and red and stretched, the expanses of his back and shoulders and bum covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Dan’s desire to see that image forever was outweighed only by his need to touch Phil, so he sat all the way up.

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice breaking off at end into a whimper when Phil took the hint and removed his mouth and hand. Phil straddled Dan’s lap, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before settling both hands at Dan’s waist. Dan snaked his arms round Phil’s shoulders, leaning in and brushing his lips against Phil’s jaw.

“This reminds me of when you were taller than me,” Dan said softly.

“Was a nice period of five minutes, yeah,” Phil teased, tilting his head to give Dan better access. Dan smiled against Phil’s neck, exhaling sharply in lieu of actually laughing. It worked better, though, as Dan’s breath sent a chill up Phil’s spine and made him shiver.

Dan kissed Phil’s neck, making a trail to his ear and back down. He was disappointed that he couldn’t make much headway no matter how much he slumped over, what with Phil sitting on him, so he just rolled them over, silencing Phil’s laughter with his lips.

Phil’s hands slid down to Dan’s hips, guiding them so that they were grinding again.

“Sorry,” Dan exhaled. “Haven’t been paying much attention to you, have I?” Dan slid his hand deliberately down Phil’s chest to wrap around Phil’s length, loosely pumping it.

“Oh absolutely, I feel completely neglected,” Phil said sarcastically.

“Now’s not a good time to sass me, Phil.”

“It’s never not a good time to sass you.”

“You sure about that?” Dan smirked, gripping Phil’s cock tighter on the upstroke and earning a moan in return.

“So far this is working in my favour,” Phil said, his voice thick.  

“Fair point,” Dan conceded, and made a move to crawl down Phil’s body, but was halted by Phil’s hands on either side of his face, pulling him in for another kiss. Phil ran his tongue along Dan’s lower lip and took it between his teeth, tilting his head until it was freed. Phil sighed into Dan’s mouth as Dan continued to work his cock with fast strokes of varying pressure.

“I want to suck you off,” Dan said, his voice low. Phil shook his head.

“I’ll be - done for -  if you do. I want this to - last,” Phil replied, struggling to keep his breathing even.

“Doesn’t have to last. We can do this a thousand more times. Could even try for breaking our personal record for a twenty-four hour period.”

Phil’s eyes widened.

“Pretty sure that breaches some laws of biology.”

“Your face breaches some laws of biology.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Phil laughed. He kissed Dan again, pushing on his shoulders and rolling them over. He reached for his bedside table, opening a drawer and groping around in it for a few moments.

“So what do you say I take a rain check on the blowjob and I put this to good use?” Phil continued, removing a bottle of lube.

“Are you asking for a blowjob _in the rain?_ How romantic,” Dan said with a snort. “But yes, I’d like that quite a lot.”

“Good,” Phil replied, popping the cap open and squeezing some of the gel onto his fingers. Dan watched him warm the lube by rubbing his fingers together, but Phil’s eyes remained fixed on Dan’s face - so intently that Dan blushed.

Phil must have noticed, because he smiled.

“I’m preparing to finger you but me _looking_ at you makes you blush?”

“What can I say? I’m a sap like that. Get on with it, then,” Dan replied, getting a bit impatient. As much as he enjoyed savouring the moment and exchanging witty banter, he was now achingly hard and in desperate need of relief.

Phil rubbed a finger against Dan’s entrance, circling it before inserting his finger all the way to the knuckle. Phil leaned his forehead against Dan’s, using Dan’s sighs of pleasure as his guide until he was using three fingers. Dan pushed down on Phil’s hand, craving more.

“‘M ready,” Dan mumbled, and Phil removed his fingers. He ducked his head down to slick himself up and line up with Dan’s entrance. When he raised his head, Dan nodded, and Phil pushed in. Dan moaned at the sudden fullness, clutching at Phil’s back and wrapping his legs around Phil’s hips.

“Good?” Phil asked softly, leaning his forehead against Dan’s again.

“Yeah,” Dan breathed, and Phil pulled out almost all the way before driving back in.

Phil’s thrusts began to pick up speed and force until they were both properly panting, messily clinging to each other and moving their bodies in time.

Dan’s fingernails scratched up and down Phil’s back, pausing to dig into Phil’s skin and push their bodies completely flush - no doubt leaving crescent-shaped marks in his wake. His fingers trailed up to fist in Phil’s hair, gripping it tightly as he went in for a hard kiss.

Phil slowed his rhythm so that their lips would actually stay touching. He pulled one of Dan’s hands from his hair, pressing Dan’s arm to the bed and trailing upward so that their palms were pressed together. Their fingers intertwined, and Phil squeezed Dan’s hand tightly as he began to fuck him harder, faster, their mouths still connected until they both needed to breathe.

Phil raised himself up a bit, just far enough away from Dan’s face so they could properly look at each other. Phil bit his lower lip, his movements growing more urgent.

“Getting close?” Dan asked, even though he knew the answer. Phil nodded, and Dan slipped his other hand between them, gripping his cock and getting himself off to the timing of Phil’s thrusts until it became too erratic and they were both just willing themselves and each other closer to climax.

Phil full-on moaned, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth dropping open to let out an incredibly wrecked version of Dan’s name as he finished, riding out his high with slowing movements of his hips.

Still panting, Phil batted Dan’s hand away and began to stroke him quickly. The feel of Phil’s hand, which always inexplicably felt better than his own, the sight and sounds of Phil falling to pieces, the lingering fullness - all collectively pushed him over the edge as he came, sighing out Phil’s name like it was a prayer.

Phil finally pulled out, murmuring an apology in response to Dan’s whimper, and retrieved some tissues from his bedside table. Dan grabbed them, cleaning himself off, wadding up the tissues, and halfheartedly tossing them towards the bin across the room. He missed.

“Nice one,” Phil teased, pulling Dan towards him. Dan curled up beside Phil, resting his head on Phil’s chest.

“You too. Ten out of ten,” Dan joked, well aware that Phil was referring to his terrible throw. Phil laughed, which quickly turned into a yawn. Dan tried to fight it, but the sound alone was enough to make him yawn too.

“How pathetic are we?” Dan said. “All we’ve done is eat, shower, and have sex and we’re about to fall asleep again.”

“A quick power nap never hurt anyone,” Phil said. “And I wouldn’t mind an existence comprised entirely of those four activities.”

“You understand me.”

Dan closed his eyes, allowing the slowing rhythm of Phil’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

x

Thankfully, neither of them slept for long. Dan managed to coax Phil into another shower, insisting that Phil had been right earlier about them needing it. Phil was reasonably suspicious, but couldn’t bring himself to deny the blowjob that Dan had promised him - which, Dan pointed out matter-of-factly, was as close to ‘in the rain’ as it could get.

After they had dried and dressed, they spent several more hours in bed, Phil’s laptop resting on his knees and Dan resting on his shoulder. Phil answered their emails while Dan dictated, checked their social media accounts, and allowed both of them to catch up on videos from their friends who uploaded on Sundays.

Eventually Phil’s laptop gave out, and the charger was too far away to consider retrieving, so he just flopped onto Dan’s lap, his head resting on one of Dan’s thighs and his hand on the other.

“Kinda wish we could do this every day,” Dan said softly, tracing patterns into Phil’s forearm with the fingers of his freshly rebandaged hand.

“Unfortunately we have jobs to attend to.”

“Can’t being with you be my job?”

“...It kind of is,” Phil said, looking up at Dan and smiling.

“Fair enough, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, me too.”

It was silent for a few moments before Phil spoke up again.

“You know how you said you really missed stage acting? Maybe we should get you back into it.”

Dan snorted.

“I think my urge to do that has been sufficiently quelled. It was fun but I’m perfectly happy with YouTube and the radio.”

“You sure?”

“One-hundred percent.”

Dan could tell Phil wasn’t done yet, and waited patiently for him to continue.

“So the only thing left to take care of is you befriending Lucy.”

Dan stilled, staring down at Phil with raised eyebrows.

“Well, she’s real, isn’t she?” Phil asked, and Dan nodded. “Then you need to make friends with her. She sounds great.”

“What am I supposed to do, Phil? Go see one of her shows and be like, ‘hi, I knew you would be in this play because you told me about it in an alternate future in which we were friends’?”

“Going to one of her shows would be a start, yes. Maybe not go about it that way, though.”

Dan considered that, nodding slowly and resuming his drawings on Phil’s skin.

“Guess so. It’d be the least I could do to thank her for everything.”

“Yeah. You said she was in Manchester? We could stay with my parents if you want. Make a mini-holiday of it.”

“Sure, yeah,” Dan agreed. He had to admit that he had forgotten that other people besides Phil existed - like their families, their friends, their subscribers.

“Speaking of parents,” Dan began. “Are we going to tell them about, you know, us?”

“Naturally,” Phil said, and in an astounding feat of best friend telepathy, continued Dan’s train of thought. “But we don’t have to tell anyone else, if you don’t want. I mean, we’ve kept it a secret for this long.”

“Relatively,” Dan grumbled. “Is it _really_ a secret if everyone already thinks they know?”

Phil smiled.

“Pretty sure we’re the only two people it was a secret to.”

“Probably,” Dan snorted. “Wish we had been in on it sooner, though.”

“Me too. But the best time is always the present, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dan said, smiling. “Because I’ve seen the past and I’ve seen the future and the present is the only one where I’ve got you in my arms.”

“I dunno what future you’re talking about, cos I’m not moving from this spot anytime soon,” Phil said, grinning up at Dan. Dan’s arms tightened around Phil, pulling him even closer against him.

“Good. Because I have no plans to ever let you go.”


End file.
